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CAPTAIN 

DANNY 















1 














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J 






9 

t 


9 










C A PTA I N 
DANNY 


BY 

WALTER CAMP 

AUTHOR OP “DANNY FISTS,” “JACK HALL AT YALE,” 
“THE SUBSTITUTE,” AND “ OLD RYERSON”, 



ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK AND LONDON 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1914 



Copyright, 1914, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 




Printed in the United States of America 

SEP 23 1914 

©Cl. A 3804 9 3 

'Mi 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. An Unexpected Blow . 



PAGE 

I 

II. 

Danny Meets the New Coach 



16 

III. 

The Baseball Meeting 



36 

IV. 

Jerome Goes Wild .... 



6S 

V. 

Jerome Gets a Chance 



86 

VI. 

Another Setback .... 



“5 

VII. 

Unwelcome Praise .... 



136 

VIII. 

A Note from Craig 



159 

IX. 

The Slaughter 



1 76 

X. 

Broken Harness .... 



203 

XI. 

A Voice from the Yard . 



228 

XII. 

The Parting of the Ways 



240 

XIII. 

Restoring Confidence . 



262 

XIV. 

For the Green and White . 


. 

00 

0^ 



























LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 

PAGE 

“The ball shot into the air with a vicious curve ” 


Frontispiece 

“ * Marty Black is here,’ said Craig ” .... 32 

“ Baggs was first to bat ” 152 

“ ‘ Don’t you know any better than to talk like 

that ? ’ ” 254 




♦ 





CAPTAIN DANNY 


CHAPTER I 

AN UNEXPECTED BLOW 

C HRISTMAS was in the air. Every 
Manor Hall boy breathed it as he pre- 
pared to depart for his home to enjoy 
the season. Yet, despite the fact that snow was 
falling and that this would be a “white Christ- 
mas,” there was a matter aside from the Yuletide 
in the mind of every boy who loved the green and 
white. 

For two years in succession Monroe Academy 
had shamelessly defeated Manor Hall’s baseball 
nine. Now the school had made up its mind 
that Monroe had to be stopped — not gently and 
kindly, but abruptly and with a thud. So even 
Christmas couldn’t make the fellows forget that 
Craig, the coach, had promised to start indoor 


i 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


baseball practice as soon as they came back to 
school. 

There were no classes to-day. Along in the 
afternoon the students would begin to go their 
separate ways toward home. At breakfast there 
was a merry, buoyant atmosphere about the din- 
ing hall. Fiery, red-haired Danny Phipps, the 
captain of the nine, went about from table to table 
urging his veteran players to take care of them- 
selves. 

“No ice hockey while you’re away, Cross,” he 
warned his first-baseman. 

“Trust me,” Cross answered. “I won’t come 
back all banged up. I’ll be fit.” 

The captain turned to Jerome, a pitcher. 
“You, too, Nick.” 

Jerome flushed. “Oh, I don’t think it matters 
much about me,” he said. 

“Of course it matters,” cried Cross. “Because 
he passed a few batters last season, Danny, he 
thinks he’ll never get control. If he doesn’t stop 
talking that way I’ll walk out and let him find a 
new roommate.” 


2 


AN UNEXPECTED BLOW 


Jerome smiled feebly. “You wouldn’t do that, 
Bert. I’ll never be much of a pitcher. Did you 
see me throwing snowballs yesterday? I couldn’t 
throw them where I wanted to for love or 
money.” 

“Snowballs aren’t baseballs,” Danny Phipps 
said sharply. “You come back here fit. Hear 
me?” 

“Oh, I’ll take care of myself,” the pitcher an- 
swered. He added as an afterthought: “I always 
do, anyway.” 

Danny walked away with a frown in his eyes. 
He was irritated at Jerome’s lack of spirit, and 
later he left word at Craig’s lodgings that it 
might be well to say a few words to the fellows 
before they departed. As a result the coach came 
to the dining hall while the students were at 
dinner. 

“Careful of the good things,” he advised ear- 
nestly. “Candy and cake have ruined many a 
boy as an athlete. A little, perhaps, isn’t bad, 
but none is better. I want you back here with 
bright eyes and good stomachs. I want you back 


3 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


here in shape to give Monroe nine innings of 
something to worry about.” 

“That’s how we’ll come,” yelled a voice. 

“There’s another thing,” said Craig. “Every 
baseball fellow knows what his record was last 
year. You should all improve. You are all 
young boys ” 

“Wow!” cried a voice. 

“Young men,” the coach continued with a slow 
smile. “Is that better? At your ages improve- 
ment from season to season is the rule. So, those 
of you who did not play as well as you might 
have played last season, remember that this sea- 
son you’ll do better. That’s all, fellows.” 

Danny had been staring at Jerome, and he 
had seen the pitcher’s face take on a different 
look. 

“That’s the stuff,” the captain muttered glee- 
fully. “I’m glad I got Craig over here.” 

After the meal Danny went off to his quar- 
ters with Ralph Dutton, his roommate. Dutton 
was the nine’s star catcher. A few minutes later 
Cross came in on them without knocking. 


4 


AN UNEXPECTED BLOW 


“How is Jerome feeling now?” Danny de- 
manded. 

“That talk did him good,” Cross answered. 
His tone changed. “Did any of you notice 
Craig?” 

“Catch me noticing anybody when there’s roast 
beef and mashed potatoes for dinner,” Dutton 
grinned. “What was wrong with him?” 

“He didn’t appear to be well.” 

“Rats!” Ralph snapped the lock of a grip. 
“Didnt’ you hear that joke he made about young 
% men? Did that sound as though he was sick?” 

“He didn’t look right,” Cross insisted stub- 
bornly. “How did he look to you, Danny?” 

The captain shook his head. “I had my eyes 
on Jerome. What makes you think he isn’t well? 
We’d be in tough shape without Craig.” 

“Rats!” Dutton scoffed. “Cross has loose 
ideas. Catch old Craig getting sick.” 

But Craig was sick. An hour later the news 
began to spread about the snow-piled Yard and 
up and down the halls of the dormitory build- 
ing. Boys who departed on the 4:27 train knew 


5 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


that a doctor had been sent for. The group that 
left on the 6 : 1 8 knew that the doctor had arrived. 
At 7 :45, when another trainload of Manor Hall 
fellows departed, the doctor was still there. The 
students left behind — boys who would not start 
for home until the morrow — tried to assure them- 
selves that no news was good news. 

Next morning Orth, the substitute catcher, 
spread glad tidings through the school. 

“Only a cold,” he said. “I saw his landlady.” 

“Huh!” said Danny. “I knew Craig was all 
right.” He studied a time-table, grabbed his grip 
and set out on a run for the railroad station. 

All the way home in the train the captain’s 
mind kept reviewing what a friend Craig had 
been to him. He had come to Manor Hall a 
hot-headed, two-fisted little fighter, and with the 
nickname of Danny Fists. In a few months 
Craig, the patient coach, had taught him to con- 
trol his fiery nature. Better still, Craig had se- 
lected him as quarterback of the school eleven. 
He had gone in for baseball in his freshman year, 
but Craig had used him only as a substitute and 


6 


AN UNEXPECTED BLOW 


then only in the minor games. After the season 
the coach had said to him: “Danny, the fellow 
who gets riled because the pitcher slips over a 
strike isn’t worth much to a nine, is he? He’s 
so busy nursing his soreness that he can’t concen- 
trate on what the next pitch will be.” 

Danny remembered how he had digested this, 
and how he had come to see that the coach had 
been gently pointing out one of his weaknesses. 
So, in his sophomore year, he had fought for 
control of his temper in baseball just as he had 
fought for it in football — and the middle of the 
season had found him a regular. Now, a Manor 
Hall junior, second base was his by a veteran’s 
right. And he was captain of the nine, too. 

He had not conquered his temper in a day. 
Even yet it still flared up at times. But Craig 
never lost patience with him. Gently the coach 
helped him nurse his good resolutions. The 
night he was elected captain the man had said to 
him quietly: “Here’s where you must watch your 
steps, Danny.” And the boy remembered his 
own question: “You’ll stand by me and help me, 


7 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


won’t you, Craig?” And the coach’s answer: 
‘‘Every minute, Danny.” Oh, yes; Craig had 
been a wonderful friend. Danny gave thanks 
that it was only a cold that had attacked the 
coach. 

Mr. Phipps had installed a billiard room since 
Danny had gone off in September. During the 
Christmas holidays Danny made much use of it, 
and tried to explain to his mother the science of 
putting “English” on a ball. Either Danny’s ex- 
planations were crude or else his mother was not 
interested, for during the second week of January 
Danny went back to Manor Hall with the convic- 
tion that only men were capable of grappling with 
big problems like football, baseball and billiards. 
Danny counted himself quite a man by this time. 

On the train he met Don Baggs. 

“What’s this I hear about Craig?” the center- 
fielder demanded. 

Danny caught his breath. “What about him?” 
His mind raced back suddenly to those days at 
school before Christmas. “He wasn’t really sick 
that time, was he, Don?” 


8 


AN UNEXPECTED BLOW 


Baggs shook his head hopelessly. “I don’t 
know. I received a letter from one of the fel- 
lows who spent Christmas at school. He said 
that Craig hadn’t come out yet, and that Dr. 
McDonald was going there two and three times 
a day.” 

“Two or three times a day?” Danny cried. 
“Why, a man’s sick when a doctor comes that 
often.” 

“That’s what I thought,” said Baggs. “What 
do you think can be wrong with him?” 

Danny didn’t know. As soon as the train 
reached Manor Hall he bolted into a telephone 
booth, called Dr. McDonald’s office, and asked 
how Craig was. 

“Ah!” said the doctor. “Mr. Craig is conva- 
lescent. I am very glad to say he is on the road 
to complete recovery.” 

“What was the matter with him?” Danny 
asked. 

“Pneumonia,” was the answer. 

Danny said a vague “Thank you,” and left the 
booth. He found Baggs waiting. 


9 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Pneumonia,” he said. “Thunder! That’s a 
tough sickness, Baggs. Remember when Man- 
ning had it?” 

“But he’s getting better, isn’t he?” the center- 
fielder demanded. 

Danny nodded. Yes, Craig was getting better. 

But somehow the boy felt no elation. Pneumonia ! 
What a miserable thing to happen to a good fel- 
low like Craig! 

Yet, by nightfall, he felt his depression pass- 
ing. For one thing, every boy he met took a 
rosy view of the situation. Craig was getting 
better, wasn’t he? In the end Danny, too, came 
to this way of thinking. After supper he plunged 
into a grand campus celebration. He came up 
the dormitory stairs with Dutton and Cross a few 
minutes before the ten o’clock bell. 

“Say,” Cross questioned, “didn’t Manning have. f 
pneumonia that time he was so sick?” 

Dutton nodded. 

“He surely did.” 

“Didn’t he have to go away and rest up? Sup- 
pose Dr. McDonald wants to send Craig away?” 


io 


AN UNEXPECTED BLOW 


“Take him away from the nine for this sea- 
son?” Danny demanded aghast. 

“Whew!” grunted Dutton. “That would be 
fine, wouldn’t it?” 

“It would — not,” said Cross. 

Later, as Danny undressed for bed, he began 
to fret about what would happen should the nine 
lose Craig. Dutton, however, very sensibly re- 
fused to worry until he found something to worry 
about. 

“Craig may be all right,” he insisted. 

“He may,” said Danny, “but I have a hunch 
he isn’t.” 

Next morning a message came to the captain 
from the coach: 

Come to my rooms this afternoon. 

It was a restless Danny who tramped across 
to Craig’s lodgings that afternoon. In his room 
he had left Dutton, Cross, Baggs, Jerome, the 
pitcher; Talmage, the third-baseman; Chapman, 
the left-fielder, and Lee, the shortstop. He had 


ii 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


looked back as he crossed the Yard, and they 
had waved to him to hurry. 

The landlady let him in at the street door with 
a flustered air of excitement. She made Danny 
feel that she didn’t approve of the visit — that 
she thought Mr. Craig should have quiet. So 
Danny went up the carpeted stairway on his toes. 
He knocked weakly at the coach’s door. 

“Come in, Danny,” called a voice. 

Danny’s heart jumped. Why, that voice was 
just the same as it always had been. He pushed 
open the door and stalked into the room. His 
face wrinkled into an honest grin of joy. Then 
he saw the man, and he caught his breath sharply. 

For Craig — the once powerful Craig — looked 
thin and gone. 

“Sort of ran me down between the bases and 
touched me out, didn’t it, Danny?” the man asked 
with his old, warm smile. 

Danny nodded and said nothing. 

“Hello!” cried the man in pretended alarm. 
“Do I look as poorly as that? Dr. McDonald 
told me I was well.” 


12 


AN UNEXPECTED BLOW 


Danny found his voice. “But — but you are 
better, aren’t you?” 

Craig laughed. “Of course I’m better. Stop 
worrying about me, Danny, and sit down. I want 
to talk to you about the nine.” 

Danny dropped into a chair. “Do we start 
indoor practice soon?” he asked. 

“I’m afraid not. That shouldn’t worry you. 
You have what is practically a team of veterans. 
You ought to win the Monroe series. You ” 

“Hold on,” Danny cried, “why do you say I’ll 
have a good nine? Why do you leave yourself 
out?” 

“Because,” said the coach, “because I will not 
be with you. Dr. McDonald ” 

“Oh!” said Danny. He sat with his eyes on 
the floor. Somehow, now that the blow had 
fallen, he knew that he had expected it. Yet he 
felt a keen pang of loss. 

“H — how long will you be away?” he asked 
huskily. 

“Five months, maybe.” 

“Until June?” 


13 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Yes.” 

“The — the Monroe series will be over when 
you come back,” said Danny. He looked at 
Craig. The coach nodded. 

“I won’t be here for the series, Danny.” 

Suddenly, to the boy, Manor Hall began to 
seem lonesome and forlorn. Craig going! And 
somebody else in Craig’s 

“Who’ll be coach?” he demanded. 

“The athletic committee has hired Marty 
Black,” said Craig. 

Danny’s chin squared. 

“Who’s he?” 

“He’s an old-time professional player,” Craig 
answered. His eyes searched the boy’s face 
keenly. “And he was a good player, too, son. 
He stayed in the National League eleven years. 
He knows baseball from the fence down to the 
last stitch in the ball.” 

“I don’t care what he knows,” the boy cried 
miserably. “I’d sooner have you, Craig.” 

The man’s face softened. “Thank you, my boy. 
I’m a little bit glad you feel that way. But don’t 


14 


AN UNEXPECTED BLOW 


forget this, Marty will take good care of the nine. 
He knows the game.” 

“That isn’t the only thing he ought to know,” 
Danny cried. “Does he know the rest of it?” 

“Does he know what?” 

“Does he know us? Does he know boys? Tell 
me that, Craig. Does he know boys?” 

“He knows the game, Danny,” said the coach 
gently. “That’s the big thing, son.” 

But the captain felt that it wasn’t. He had 
seen the Manor Hall nine beat better teams, and 
he had thought on those occasions that the rea- 
son was Craig. So, half an hour later when he 
trudged back across the Yard, he felt heartsick 
and sore. Marty Black! He shook his head 
sorrowfully. He felt that he would not give 
Craig’s little finger for all the Marty Blacks in 
the world. 


CHAPTER II 

DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 

D ESPITE the fact that his thoughts were 
gloomy, Danny was too wise a cam- 
paigner and too close a student of 
Craig’s methods to let the members of the nine see 
how dejected he was. He went into his room, 
where the crowd was gathered, with a buoyant 
step and with a laughing tilt to his head. Cross 
jumped up. 

“How is he, Danny?” 

“He’s been sick, Bert.” 

Cross looked at him. “How sick, Danny?” 
“Too sick,” the captain answered bitterly, for- 
getting for the moment the part he had to play. 
He caught himself. “Too sick to suit any of us 
fellows who like him,” he added. 

16 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


Cross’s eyes clouded with thought. He felt 
that the captain wasn’t telling the whole story. 
Talmage took up the questioning: 

“What did Craig want?” 

Danny’s answer was an attempt at careless- 
ness. “He wanted to tell me about Marty 
Black.” 

“Wasn’t he a professional ball player?” Dut- 
ton asked with a frown. 

“You bet he was,” Danny cried. “He lasted 
for eleven years in the National League.” 

“Eleven — ” Dutton took a step forward. 
“Look here, Danny, what did Craig tell you? Is 
Marty Black coming to Manor Hall?” 

Danny nodded. 

Jerome gave a short whistle. Cross walked 
over to the window and drummed on the glass. 
He looked back over his shoulder. 

“Is this Black going to coach us?” 

Danny forced a smile. “You bet he is. Craig 
says he knows ” 

“Where will Craig be?” Cross interrupted. 

“He’s going south for his health,” Danny 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


answered. “Marty Black will have charge for 
the whole season — the Monroe series and 
all.” 

He had told them the worst. Now he watched 
them narrowly. They said nothing. One by one 
they made excuses and departed. Danny, in 
silence, watched them go. 

For he knew how they felt. They had a feel- 
ing for Craig that was down deep in their hearts. 
It was faith, love, adoration. They understood 
their coach, and he understood them. They took 
the news that a former big leaguer was com- 
ing to Manor Hall with a blank lack of interest. 
It was not that they were prejudiced against 
Marty Black. They did not doubt his ability. 
But Craig was Craig — and without Craig they felt 
helpless. 

Dutton remained in the room with Danny. He 
drew a sighing breath. And at that Danny 
bristled. 

“Oh, cut it out, Dut,” he cried. “I’m not 
going to have any of you fellows holding funerals 
when there’s nobody dead. Craig says Marty 

18 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


knows baseball from the fence to the last stitch 
in the ball.” 

“But he’s a big leaguer,” the catcher wailed. 

“Well, what of that? It ought to help us. 
He certainly had to know something fc about base- 
ball to stay in the National League eleven years.” 

“But he’ll come here and look down on us,” 
Dutton cried. “All big leaguers do. They call 
other players bushers. They treat them con- 
temptuously. That’s what Marty Black will do.” 

It was on the tip of Danny’s tongue to say, 
“Just let me see him.” He held himself in check. 

“Marty isn’t that kind,” he defended. “He 
knows we’re green about the game. That’s why 
we need him to coach us. Marty will be all 
right.” 

“He won’t be Craig,” said Dutton. 

There was no denying that. Danny had an 
idea that if something wasn’t done mighty quickly 
he’d find his nine completely discouraged months 
before it played even its first game. 

By supper time the whole school knew that 
Craig was going away. Danny had had a feeling 


19 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


that all the fellows would be downcast. Instead, 
he found the school regretting Craig’s loss, but 
at the same time secretly rejoicing in the thought 
that a former big leaguer was coming to them. 
The fact that he had been a star in his day threw 
an atmosphere of greatness around him. Why, 
even Craig had never been in the big leagues. 
Of course, the school would be delighted when 
Craig came back; but wasn’t it bully to get a man 
like Marty Black? 

Danny felt like taking a couple of the fellows 
and banging their heads together. That sort of 
reasoning seemed to him like disloyalty to Craig. 
But after thinking the matter over he came to 
the conclusion that he would force the school to 
help him. The students expected great things with 
the coming of Marty Black! All right; he’d try 
to inoculate the baseball squad with the same 
feeling. 

But here he failed. The veterans of the nine 
could not forget all that Craig had been to 
them. 

“Don’t rush at us that way,” Cross pleaded. 


20 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


“Black may make the best coach in the world. 
I’m not saying he won’t. I hope, for the sake of 
the nine, that he does make good. But we’re 
losing Craig, and we must get used to that thought, 
Danny, before we can throw up our hats for any- 
body else. Give us time.” 

“But,” Danny insisted, “Craig says ” 

“What else would Craig say?” Cross demanded 
bluntly. 

Here was the whole game in a new light. How 
many of the nine thought that Craig was talking 
for effect when he praised Marty Black? 

That afternoon Danny went over to the 
coach’s rooms. Some of the color had come back 
to the man’s cheeks. 

“Where can I get Marty Black’s record?” he 
asked Craig. 

The coach went over to his desk and brought 
back a pile of old baseball records. From some 
the covers were gone. Danny counted the books. 
Eleven, one for each year Marty had spent in the 
big league. 

“I sent for them,” Craig said quietly. “I 


21 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


thought you’d be over for something like that 
sooner or later.” 

Danny had not planned to explain how the 
boys felt. He saw, however, that Craig under- 
stood. 

“I wouldn’t need these,” he scowled, “if the 
fellows would pitch in and forget what can’t be 
helped. Every time I try to get them going they 
begin to talk about how they’re losing Craig. It’s 
going to make things a whole lot harder. And 
yet — yet ” 

“Yet?” the coach asked. 

Danny shook his head. “I’d want to hit them 
with a bat if they didn’t feel that way. Isn’t 
there a chance — just a little chance, Craig — that 
you can get back in time for Monroe?” 

There was a moment of silence. And then 
the boy awakened to the fact that the nine were 
not the only persons who felt the pang of coming 
separation. 

“Danny,” said the coach, “don’t tempt me.” 

The captain tucked the books under one arm. 
At the door he turned back a moment. 


22 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


“If anything goes wrong, Craig, can’t I write 
you a letter and ask for advice?” 

“Marty Black will give you any advice you 
need, son.” 

“But if ” 

“None of that, Danny. If I was here I’d let 
no other man put his fingers in my pie, and I 
know that Marty will feel the same way. You 
dig his record out of those books. You’ll feel 
better when you find how good a player he was.” 

“But he isn’t — ” Danny began. 

“None of that,” said Craig. “Fair play, young 
man.” 

As the result of that talk Danny carried a new 
thought back to his room. So far he had been 
guided in all his talks with the nine by the am- 
bition to make his nine a winner. Now he saw 
that he had to stand loyally by Marty Black 
not so much because he was captain of the nine, 
but through a clean spirit of fairness. He had 
to meet Marty half way, square and above board. 
His secret regrets that Craig was going would 
have to be killed. 


23 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


In his room he went through the records. Year 
by year he copied Marty Black’s fielding and bat- 
ting averages. 

“He’s a whale,” Danny breathed when he saw 
the figures. “Why, he never hit less than .289, 
and look at his fielding.” 

Dutton came in just as the captain finished his 
labors. The catcher glanced at the records. 

“Hello! What are you up to, Danny? Oh! 
Marty’s records, eh?” 

Dutton studied them. Danny pretended to 
search for a pencil. 

“Well?” he asked suddenly. 

“The pitchers weren’t as good in his day as 
they are now,” said Dutton. “Of course, Danny, 
I don’t mean ” 

“You mean that you’re going to keep thinking 
about Craig,” hot-headed Danny flared. “This 
man is coming here to help us win, and I think 
it’s up to every one of us to stand by him.” 

Dutton turned away from the figures. “You 
needn’t jump all over me. I’ll stand by you ” 

“I know you will,” Danny broke in contritely. 


24 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


“I guess I’m getting grouchy, Dut. But why in 
thunder can’t you fellows warm up to Marty?” 

“You didn’t warm to him at first,” said the 
catcher. “Give us a chance. You know how we 
feel toward Craig.” 

“We must play fair with Marty Black,” said 
Danny. 

Later the captain went to the room of Keating, 
the editor of The Greertie , the school’s weekly 
newspaper. 

“Look here, Keat,” he pleaded, “can’t you 
give the nine a hand? If I don’t get Marty in 
right with the fellows we’re in for a bad season 
of baseball.” 

Keating wore round, black-rimmed eyeglasses. 
He took them off and tapped them against his 
chin. “What do you want, Danny?” 

“I want these printed.” 

Keating surveyed the figures that told the story 
of Marty Black’s record. 

“I’ll print them,” he said solemnly, “in the 
next number. Will that be all right?” 

“You bet it will,” said Danny. “Make it 


25 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


strong, Keat. All about his experience, and how 
he’s going to give us a team that will stop Mon- 
roe. You know how to do it, Keat.” 

“I surely do,” the editor admitted. 

Three days later, when The Greenie appeared, 
Danny admitted that Keating certainly did know 
how to do it. The story was two columns long, 
and Marty Black’s record was set in black, heavy 
type. It was the sort of record to make boys 
enthuse. The dormitory building and the Yard 
began to chant the prowess of the new coach. The 
veterans of the nine began to feel the pull of sen- 
timent. They became more hopeful and less in- 
clined to mourn Craig. 

And then Danny took up the cry of fair play 
to Marty Black. Within a week the veterans 
like Baggs and Cross and Talmage had come the 
way the captain wanted them to go. Back came 
much of the old confidence. 

Danny felt a glow of joy. He had brought 
the boys around to feel that things were going 
to go right. That meant half the battle. And 
he knew, too, that Craig would be pleased. 


26 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


Now that so much had been settled, two big 
questions remained. When would Marty Black 
appear? When would indoor practice start? 
Danny was anxious to get his candidates to work 
as soon as possible, for he had a fifteen-game 
schedule ahead of him. He interviewed Pilgrim, 
a member of the athletic committee, but Pilgrim 
said he did not know. Next Danny dropped in 
on Craig. 

“He’s coming,” said the man. “That’s all I 
know.” 

“But,” the captain argued, “suppose he doesn’t 
show up until March first ” 

Craig laughed. “He’ll be here before Febru- 
ary first,” he said. “The first thing you know 
you’ll be worrying about this nine of yours.” 

“Pm worrying now,” said Danny ruefully. 
“If you hadn’t been sick we’d be at indoor work 
before this.” 

However, the boy was wise enough to know 
that worry never yet helped anything. So as to 
give the baseball players something to look for- 
ward to, he announced that Marty Black would 


27 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


arrive before February first. Dutton looked at 
the calendar and said that February first fell on 
Friday and that everybody knew that Friday was 
a hard-luck day. 

“All right,” Danny cried hotly; “but to-day 
will be a hard-luck day for somebody if that kind 
of talk isn’t stopped.” 

The catcher looked surprised. “Gosh, Dan- 
ny! You talk as though you’d like to fight 
me. 

“I’d fight Craig if he said discouraging things 
like that,” Danny retorted, and Dutton, after a 
moment of silence, said soberly: 

“I guess you’re right. I’ll cut that out.” 

The catcher meant what he said. But he had 
taken hold of the thought that Marty Black, ex- 
professional, would come to Manor Hall and 
look down upon them. Twice, in the next few 
days, he voiced pessimistic sentiments, and Danny 
had to struggle to hold his temper down. Then 
came word that Mr. and Mrs. Phipps were going 
south for a month or more and that Danny was 
wanted at home to see them off. So the captain 


28 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


journeyed back to Westbrook for a day, and was 
not at all sorry to go. 

After his father and mother had departed, he 
had an hour to wait before his train started back 
for the school town. He wandered up Main 
Street to the store of the Westbrook Sporting 
Goods Company. There was a shiny black bat 
in the window that he had more than once ad- 
mired. Now he stepped inside and asked to 
see it. 

What a wonderful bat it was! Not too thick 
at the handle, not long enough to be clumsy, and 
not heavy enough to prevent him taking a free 
swing. He spanked at the air and thought joy- 
ously that this particular bat was just made for 
him. 

“A very fine piece of wood,” said the salesman. 

Danny didn’t know whether the wood was fine 
or not. Nevertheless he ran his fingers down the 
grain, and squinted wisely, and said yes, it was 
very fine indeed. 

“Only one dollar and a quarter,” said the 
salesman. 


29 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Danny sighed. He would have to live pretty 
quietly, because there wouldn’t be much left of 
his spending money, but 

“I’ll take it,” he announced. 

“Of course you’ll want a bat bag,” said the 
salesman. 

“Oh, of course,” said Danny recklessly. 

Five minutes later he was out with his bat and 
bag. He had twenty cents in his pocket, and that 
twenty cents would have to last him three weeks. 
But then, again, he had a wonderful bat, and he’d 
like to see the pitcher who would send him back 
to the bench on strikes. He certainly would like 
to see that pitcher. 

When his train arrived at the Westbrook sta- 
tion, he climbed into the nearest car. He dropped 
into a seat alongside a man who had been staring 
out of the car window. He had the bat bag be- 
tween his legs. After a while he became con- 
scious that the man had turned in the seat and 
was looking at him and smiling. Danny smiled, 
too. 

“I see you’ve got a stick there,” said the man. 


30 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


“It’s a good one,” said the boy. “A very fine 
piece of wood.” He spoke with an air of supe- 
riority. 

“Regular home run bat, eh?” the man asked. 

“Well,” Danny confessed, “I haven’t hit any 
home runs with it yet.” 

“No? How’s that?” 

“Haven’t had it in any games yet.” 

“Oh! So that’s the only reason you haven’t 
hit home runs, what?” 

“Well,” said Danny with enthusiasm, “I guess 
I could hit a couple if I had a chance.” 

The man grunted. “I guess you’re the best 
player on your team, aren’t you?” 

“The fellows elected me captain.” 

“Captain, eh? What are you, a pitcher?” 

“No; I play second base.” 

“Second base ! Huh ! That’s a mighty impor- 
tant position. I guess they don’t get many of 
them past you.” 

“Not many,” said Danny. 

He did not see the amused light in the man’s 
eyes. He was being coated with sticky flattery, 


3i 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


and he was losing his head and boasting in a way 
that was altogether foreign to his nature. More 
than once Craig had called him a manly little 
chap, but he wasn’t at all manly now. 

Recklessly he talked of himself, of his team, 
of what he would do and of what his team would 
do. Craftily the stranger led him on. 

“I suppose that nine of yours will clean up this 
season?” the man asked. 

“Pretty nearly,” Danny answered stoutly. 

“I suppose they’d lose about every game with- 
out you, what?” 

There was something about the question that 
made the boy’s eyes jump to the man’s face. 
Slowly Danny awakened to the fact that this 
stranger had been poking fun at him. He be- 
came aware, too, of how foolish his talk must 
have sounded. A hot flush crept into his cheeks. 

“Maybe,” he said stiffly. 

It would have been just as well had he not an- 
swered so primly. But he was angry at the man 
for having led him on, and angry at himself 
for having played the fool. Anyway, what 


32 



“ 4 Marty Black is here/ said Craig ” 






DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


right had a man to make sport of a boy in that 
fashion? 

“You ought to be in the big leagues in three 
or four years,” said the stranger. 

Danny, lighting for self-control, pulled the bat 
bag from between his legs, stood up and stepped 
out into the aisle of the car. He would retreat, 
but he would try to do so without showing how 
hard he was hit. 

“Three or four years,” he said scornfully. 
“Huh! I have a contract in my pocket now.” 

He turned away. He heard the man say, 
“You came back with a hot one that time, young- 
ster,” but he did not look back. He found a seat 
in a car up ahead. 

His anger by this time had given place to 
shame. Suppose Craig had heard him? Hadn’t 
he been the chump? 

He had a feeling that he had been guilty of 
some kind of wrong. This feeling was still with 
him when he left the train at Manor Hall. He 
walked slowly to the school grounds, crossed the 
Yard and tramped up to his room in the dormi- 


33 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


tory building. There he found Dutton washing 
for supper. 

“Hello!” cried the catcher. “You look sick. 
Anything wrong?” 

“Nothing,” said Danny. 

“Well, you look as though something hit you. 
What’s that, a bat? Let’s see it.” 

The stick was taken from its covering. Dut- 
ton felt it, and swung it, and finally put it back 
in its case. 

“I bet you feel as though you could knock a 
home run with that every time,” he said to Danny. 

The captain flushed painfully. “I don’t feel 
anything of the kind, Dut.” 

At supper the catcher told several of the fel- 
lows that Danny had a “cuckoo of a bat.” Later, 
Cross, Talmage and Jerome came up to inspect 
the weapon. While they were there word was 
brought to Danny that Craig wanted to see him. 

He went across the Yard wondering what the 
coach could want. The street door of the house 
was open, so he did not bother to ring the bell. 
He ran lightly up the stairs. Craig must have 


34 


DANNY MEETS THE NEW COACH 


been watching for him, for Craig’s voice cried: 

“Come right in, Danny. Don’t knock.” 

The boy entered the coach’s rooms. He saw 
a wide grin on the man’s face, as though there 
was good news. 

“Marty Black is here,” said Craig. 

Danny’s eyes jumped to the other end of the 
room. There, sitting at Craig’s desk, was the 
man who had made game of him on the train. 


CHAPTER III 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 

I T took wise old Craig but a moment to see 
that something was amiss. Danny looked 
hot and uncomfortable, and the coach knew 
by the signs that something had gone wrong. 
Marty Black grinned with vast amusement. And 
into Craig’s mind came Danny’s question, “Does 
he know boys?” 

“So this is Danny Phipps, eh?” asked Marty. 
He held out his hand. “Cap, I’m pleased to meet 
you again.” 

Danny took the hand. Craig shot the boy a 
glance of concern. 

“Did you and Marty meet on the train?” the 
old coach demanded. 

Danny colored. “We did,” he said shortly. 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


Marty laughed. “We had a talk,” he said. 
“Danny told me just what sort of player he was, 
didn’t you, Cap? If he plays that way while I’m 
here I’ll be satisfied.” 

This time Craig gave Danny a long look, and 
the boy’s cheeks grew scarlet. 

“I boasted, Craig,” he said in a low, ashamed 
voice. “I said I was a hangup second-baseman 
and that I’d be hitting out home runs with my 
new bat. I talked like a big kid ” 

“Bosh!” laughed Marty Black. “I led you on, 
Cap. I like to see a kid who thinks well of him- 
self.” 

“We don’t like boasters at Manor Hall,” said 
Danny. “If any of the fellows had heard 


“But they didn’t,” said Marty Black, “so 
what’s the difference? We’re going to get on 
well together, Cap. I like your style. Craig says 
you can play ball, so I guess you weren’t boast- 
ing much at that.” 

Danny didn’t argue. Besides, he had a feel- 
ing that Marty Black wouldn’t understand if he 


37 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


did attempt to explain. Deep in the back of his 
head was the thought that a man who would have 
a fellow talk big just for amusement was going 
to find it hard to take the place of Craig. He 
looked at the old coach, and Craig sent him a 
smile that somewhat comforted him. 

“Danny’s head is pretty level,” Craig told 
Marty. “He doesn’t often forget himself.” 

“Bosh!” said the new coach. “Every kid must 
have a foolish fling now and then. We under- 
stand each other, don’t we, Cap?” 

Danny tried to say “Yes” with a show of en- 
thusiasm, but his voice sounded flat. He wished 
that Marty Black would not say “kids” so often. 

Craig saw that here was an interview charged 
with dynamite. It was best to be rid of Danny 
before the boy showed plainly that he had been 
hard hit. 

“All right, son,” he said. “I brought you over 
so you could say ‘Hello.’ Run along now. I 
want to get Marty posted. Bring the fellows to 
the gym to-morrow at three-thirty, and we’ll in- 
troduce them.” 


38 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


Danny nodded. “I’ll bring them. When — 
when will we start indoor practice, Marty?’’ 

The new coach waved a heavy hand with a 
show of friendliness. “I’ll leave that to you, 
Cap. Any time you say.” 

Well, that was better, anyway. Danny left 
feeling that things would have been fine indeed 
only for that unfortunate meeting on the train. 
He was glad now that he had told none of 
the boys of the happening, and he was quite sure 
that Craig would warn Marty Black to keep the 
news of their train meeting a secret. 

Dutton was studying when the captain entered 
their room. The catcher pushed away his book. 

“What did Craig want, Danny?” 

“He wanted to introduce me to Marty Black.” 

Dutton jumped from the chair. “Is he here? 
What does he look like?” 

Danny’s description was vague and listless, 
so colorless in fact that Dutton said suspicious- 
ly: 

“You don’t seem to be very enthusiastic, 
Danny.” 


39 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


The captain pulled himself together. “I was 
thinking of some things Marty told me,” he ex- 
plained. 

Dutton came closer. “How is he? Is he — is 
he — You know what I mean, Danny? Is he the 
kind we can work in with in the old way, or will 
he want to boss the works?” 

“Boss!” Danny demanded. “Wake up! He’s 
left it to me when we shall start indoor practice. 
That doesn’t look like bossing, does it?” 

Of course it didn’t. Dutton gave a sigh of 
relief. He told Danny that all along he had been 
afraid of Marty. 

“When Craig’s there,” he explained, “I just 
catch and sort of forget myself. But if this 
Marty Black was going to be pecking at us be- 
cause we didn’t do this or that right — That 
would get on my nerves, Danny. I’d be saying 
to myself, ‘Here’s a big leaguer and he thinks 
I’m a busher, and maybe he’s laughing at me up 
his sleeve ’ ” 

“Laughing?” Danny broke in indignantly. 
“Marty Black laughing? He’s not that kind.” 


40 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


“Whew!” the catcher breathed. He looked 
at the captain and smiled. “I feel better 
now.” 

Danny didn’t. Suppose Marty did have a 
habit of leading every fellow he met to boast 
about himself? 

“When will we meet him?” Dutton asked 
eagerly. 

“To-morrow afternoon at the gym,” Danny 
answered; and at once Dutton sped from the room 
to spread the news. 

The baseball men soon thronged to the cap- 
tain’s quarters. Cross slapped Danny on the 
shoulders and grinned happily. 

“How about it, Danny?” he asked. “Is that 
story Dutton tells true?” 

“What story?” 

“About Marty Black leaving it to you when 
we should start indoor practice?” 

“Oh, that’s true,” Danny answered stoutly. 

Cross grinned again. “Say, I’m glad way down 
in my shoes. I didn’t say anything to you, but 
Jerome was scared. Jerry’s a peculiar chap. He 


4i 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


went around thinking Marty would fire him from 
the squad if his control wasn’t just right” 

“Huh!” said Danny. “Marty’s here to give 
every fellow a chance. How does Jerome feel 
now?” 

“Look at him,” said Cross. 

Danny stared across the room. Jerome was 
skylarking merrily. From then until the ten 
o’clock bell rang the captain carried a kernel of 
worry in his mind. Just how many of his boys 
were secretly afraid of their new coach? 

That thought kept him tossing on his pillow 
when he went to bed. However, once he fell 
asleep, his restlessness passed. He awoke in the 
morning refreshed. After breakfast he had half 
an hour before classes. He came out to the Yard 
and found Craig loitering near the dormitory 
building. The man motioned to him. They 
walked off toward the athletic grounds. 

“I’m going away to-morrow,” Craig said. “I 
want to talk to you before I go. Your big 
problem will be your pitchers. I have told 
Marty Black what he might expect, and now 


42 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


I want to post you. What do you think of 
Steele?’’ 

“He — he hasn’t much,” Danny confessed, “and 
yet somehow he seems to win his share of the 
games.” 

“Confidence,” said Craig. “That’s his strength, 
Danny. Any time you can make him believe that 
the nine cannot be beaten he’ll most likely go in 
and win for you. Don’t forget that. Any time 
he gets the idea that a game can’t be lost, send 
him to the mound.” 

Danny nodded. “I’ll remember that.” 

“Now as for King. He’s big, Danny, and he’s 
powerful, but don’t make the mistake of rating 
him too high. He lacks head. You must use 
your brains as to when to pitch King. Strength 
and speed are not enough against a fast, hard- 
playing nine. And now as for Jerome ” 

Danny looked up quickly. “Yes, sir.” 

“He’s a hard case,” Craig said slowly. “If 
he doesn’t get control, son, he’s hopeless. But I 
want you to remember this: never lose patience 
with him. He’s the hardest pitcher of the lot 


v 


43 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


to hit. If he ever begins to put that ball over 
he’ll be the best you have.” 

“I’ve always thought that,” said Danny. “But 
he doesn’t seem to have any faith in himself, and 
he’s been afraid a professional coach would see 
his wildness and jump on his neck and — ” The 
boy stopped. 

“And what?” asked Craig. 

“Nothing,” Danny answered. “I shouldn’t 
have told you that. It slipped out. I don’t want 
you to go away thinking all’s not well, because 
you’ll worry. Jerome is over that feeling, any- 
way.” 

“How did he get over it?” the man asked 
suspiciously. 

“I told how Marty Black left it to me to start 
the indoor practice.” 

Craig whistled softly. So that was how the 
boy was playing his cards. Clever, quite clever. 

“Danny,” he said abruptly, “let’s get down to 
the real thing. You and Marty must pull to- 
gether.” 

“We’re going to,” said the boy. 


44 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


“I don’t mean just pull together on the sur- 
face. I mean the big pull, son — so that you’ll go 
to him with all your worries and troubles and 
feel that he’ll try to pull you out. I know he 
rubbed you a bit the wrong way on the train, but 
that must be forgotten. He was only kidding; 
and see what he said about liking a chap who 
thinks well of himself? That’s his league train- 
ing, Danny. Up in the leagues the fellow who 
doesn’t bubble with confidence doesn’t last. 
Marty knows the game. That’s the big test. He 
knows the game. He’ll give you a corking good 
nine if you pull with him.” 

“I’ll pull,” Danny said huskily. 

The old coach smiled. “That’s the talk. Re- 
member your football experiences? You got your 
temper under control on the football field. Keep 
it there. If it gets the better of you, you are 
gone. I don’t mean you must knuckle under to 
anybody; but you must keep that temper so you 
know just what you are doing and saying, and 
just where you are going and how far. It isn’t 
possible that you and Marty will think alike on 


45 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


every question. But keep your temper. And 
remember one thing — Marty Black was playing 
baseball for a living when you were in a baby 
carriage.” 

They were over near the gym now. They 
swung around and started back toward the Yard. 
Suddenly the class bell rang. Danny stopped 
short. 

“I — I’m glad I had this talk with you,” he 
said. He reached out and gripped Craig’s 
hand, and then turned and raced away. And 
Craig stood there and stared after him wist- 
fully. 

“Danny, Danny!” he murmured affectionately. 
“I know you’ll play fair all the way, but I’m afraid 
there’s going to be trouble.” 

That afternoon Danny brought the players to 
the gym and introduced them to Marty Black. 
He wondered what the outcome would be, and his 
heart was in his throat as he entered the building. 
Would Marty start more of his kidding? But 
Craig was there, and Craig kept the fellows merry 
with his quips and jests. When they came back 


46 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


to the Yard they forgot that Marty had had lit- 
tle to say. They voted him a good fellow, and 
Danny raced up to his room and jigged with joy. 
Later Dutton came in. 

“Well,” Danny demanded, “what do you think 
of him now?” 

“He looks like a ball player,” said the catcher. 
Later it came to Danny that Dutton could have 
made a better speech had he said that Marty 
looked like a coach. 

Next day Craig left Manor Hall. Danny 
would have felt better for another talk with the 
old master, but no opportunity for such a talk 
came. He went down to the station with the 
other students and cheered uproariously as the 
train pulled out. After that he walked back to 
the Yard with the old feeling of helplessness steal- 
ing over him. Dutton wanted to sit up and talk 
about Craig, but Danny said he was tired and 
went to bed. 

For three days Marty Black lounged about the 
Yard and made efforts to get acquainted with the 
boys. He made friends fast enough, for he wore 


47 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


the halo of a baseball hero and every Manor 
Hall fellow had clipped Marty’s record from The 
Greenie. Besides he told the boys that he had 
never had anything to do with a loser. Danny 
wished he hadn’t said that. It might lead the 
school to expect too much. 

Marty had taken Craig’s old rooms. The fol- 
lowing Monday afternoon he sent for Danny, 
and at once the school declared that this meant 
the start of indoor practice. 

Marty, however, had not been thinking about 
indoor practice when he sent for the captain. 
When Danny came in the man had several sheets 
of paper before him. They were scribbled with 
names and figures. 

“We’ve got to get a line on the team, Cap,” 
said Marty. “Sit down here and talk things 
over.” 

Danny sat down. It seemed strange to come 
into these familiar rooms and not see Craig. 

“Now, Craig tells me we can expect nothing 
from the recruits — I mean the freshman class. 
How’s that? Right?” 


48 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


“Right,” said Danny. “They’re pretty young, 
and none of them have played much ball.” 

“All right. Here’s this chap Cross. How’s 
he for first base?” 

“Best in the school,” said Danny. 

“All right. Then we’ll put him down for first. 
This is all dope, you know. This doesn’t mean 
that anybody is sure of his place.” 

“I know,” said Danny. 

“Second base. That’s you, Cap. I guess there 
won’t be any trouble there. And Talmage is on 
third. How about him? Makes a lot of errors, 
doesn’t he?” 

“He tries for everything,” Danny answered. 

“Trying to show off and cover the whole 
field,” grunted Marty. “We’ll knock that out of 
him.” 

“He doesn’t,” Danny defended. “He isn’t the 
show off kind. But he tries ” 

“All right,” Marty interrupted. “Put him 
down.” 

Danny wrote Talmage’s name. How, he won- 
dered, could Marty say Tal was a grandstand 


49 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


player without ever having seen him in action? 

“Now for short. How about this kid Lee? 
The dope books here don’t show him up as much 
of a hitter, and he’s no stone wall as a fielder. 
How about him?” 

“He’s good,” said Danny quickly. “Of course, 
he doesn’t field as well as he might, and his bat- 
ting average isn’t good. But he’s a terror when 
he gets on the bases. He got on less than any 
fellow last year, and yet scored more runs. We 
didn’t meet a catcher who could stop him stealing.” 

“Must have been pretty rotten catchers,” said 
Marty. 

Danny bit his lips. How did Marty know 
whether the other catchers had been good or bad, 
he asked himself. And why could not Marty give 
Lee credit for what had been done? Why throw 
cold water? 

“Now for the outfield,” said the man. “Chap- 
man in left. Got a good record, hasn’t he? And 
Baggs in center. Cap, there’s a bird who can hit. 
He does his hitting in the pinches, too. I’m sweet 
on that kid already. How about right field?” 


50 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


Danny shook his head. “The fellow who* 
played right field last year has graduated.” 

“We’ll find somebody,” said Marty. “Maybe 
we’ll let Talmage go out there and cover a lot 
of ground.” 

Danny said nothing to that. He felt, some- 
how, as though this wasn’t a Manor Hall coach 
and as though this wasn’t Manor Hall at all. 

“Let’s take a squint at the catchers. Here’s 
two of them — Dutton and Orth. Dutton’s the 
big noise and Orth trails along and warms up 
the pitchers. Right?” 

“No. Orth has caught quite a few games.” 

“Big games?” 

“Well, no — not the big games. Dutton catches 
them.” 

“He’s your bunkie, isn’t he?” Marty asked. 
Then, as Danny gave him a puzzled glance: 
“Your roommate.” 

Slowly the captain’s face colored. “We room 
together,” he said. “I wasn’t captain last year, 
but Dutton was the first-string catcher.” 

“No offense, Cap,” Marty hastened to say. 


5i 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“ I just wanted to ask. Kids will have their fa- 
vorites, and I thought perhaps maybe this Dutton 
might horn in for a little the best of it.” 

“We don’t play favorites at Manor Hall,” said 
Danny slowly. “Craig should have told you that.” 

“Oh, Craig told me,” Marty grinned, “but my 
motto is to find out for myself. Well, Cap, here’s 
the pitchers.” 

For a moment Danny did not care a rap about 
the pitchers. He felt that he wanted to get out 
of here and get away. Then he remembered 
Craig’s warning that he and the coach must pull 
together. He tried to force an interest he did not 
for the moment feel. 

“We’ll have a pretty good staff, won’t we, 
Marty?” 

“Oh, I’ll make pitchers out of them,” said 
Marty. “This chap Steele seems to have some 
good games in his bag, but this kid King is my 
bacon. He has beef and strength. He ought 
to be able to steam them in some.” 

“He has speed,” Danny agreed; “but I don’t 
think he has much head and ” 


52 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


“Now, now,” Marty cautioned tolerantly. “I’ll 
tend to the headwork, Cap.” 

“But Craig says ” 

“I’m coaching this team,” snapped Marty. 

It was the first time the man had shown his 
teeth. Suddenly Danny remembered Craig’s re- 
fusal to answer letters because it might interfere 
with Marty’s control. 

“Of course you’re the coach,” Danny hastened 
to say. “I thought maybe you’d like to know 
what Craig thought, that’s all.” 

Marty grinned. “All right. So long as we 
understand each other there’s no harm done. 
Craig didn’t ask my opinion when he bossed the 
gang.” 

“Of course not,” said the captain. 

Marty folded his papers and put them away. 
“I guess that’s all, Cap. It wouldn’t do any harm 
if we had another pitcher.” 

“We have,” Danny cried. “There’s Je- 
rome ” 

“Jerome! Cap, that bird’s hopeless.” 

“How do you know?” 


53 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Haven’t I seen his record? Seven and eight 
passed to first base to the game. We can’t use 
a shooter with control like that.” 

“But you haven’t seen him work this year 
and ” 

“I’ve seen his record,” Marty said soothingly. 
“I know these wild birds, Cap. I’ve seen hun- 
dreds of them. They haven’t got control, and 
you couldn’t buy it and give it to them.” 

“But he ought to have a chance to show ” 

“He’s shown it here,” said Marty, tapping the 
old score books. 

Danny bit his lips. Craig would never have 
prejudged a player. And as for knowing how a 
man would shape up 

“Look here, Marty,” he argued. “This record 
stuff doesn’t always go. Take Marquard, for 
instance. If McGraw had released him after his 
first year or so, what chance would he have had to 
make that record of nineteen straight?” 

Marty waved a silencing hand. “Cap,” he 
advised good-naturedly, “don’t get arguing big 
league ball. You’ll get out over your head.” 


54 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


There was a what’s-the-use-of-arguing-with-a- 
boy air about the man. This time Danny bit his 
lips, but it did no good. His answer came right 
from the shoulder. 

“Jerome gets a chance,” he said, “to show what 
he has. No Manor Hall fellow was ever turned 
down without a hearing.” 

“All right,” said Marty tolerantly, “if you 
want to waste time, go ahead.” 

Danny now forced a smile. Craig had said pull 
together and he would pull. He brought up the 
question of indoor practice. Marty showed 
little interest, and when the boy suggested 
that they start the following Monday the man 
agreed. 

“How about the meeting?” Danny asked. 
“Will next Wednesday night do?” 

“What meeting?” 

“The meeting of the baseball candidates,” 
Danny answered. “You see, we’ll announce the 
start of practice for next Monday, and we’ll call 
a meeting for Wednesday night.” 

“What’s done at the meeting?” 


55 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Oh, speeches and all that. Sort of starts 
things off with enthusiasm.’’ 

Marty flashed a smile of amusement. “Let 
me get this straight, Cap. You mean you have a 
meeting and get everybody excited and cheering?” 

“That’s what I mean.” 

Marty’s amusement increased. “Is that how 
you play baseball here? Speeches and cheering! 
That’s a hot one, isn’t it? I’ve played baseball a 
long time, but I never heard of starting the sea- 
son with a mass meeting. Guess I’ll tip off Con- 
nie Mack and Clark Griffith. Who makes the 
> speeches, Cap?” 

“I make one,” said Danny. 

“Do you? Well, well. Anybody else make a 
speech?” 

“The coach does,” said Danny. 

Marty Black sat up straight. “I make a 
speech! Is this on the level, Cap? What in 
Sam Hill do I make a speech about?” 

Danny explained patiently that the meeting was 
to get things started properly, to awaken enthu- 
siasm, to get the captain and the coach in closer 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


touch with the players. Marty, after a while, 
seemed to comprehend. 

“All right,” he said. “I’ll be there with some 
guff.” The amused smile came back to his face. 
“Wonder what the old-timers would say if they 
saw Marty Black starting the season with a 
speech ?” 

Danny departed with a feeling that things 
weren’t going right. He spread the word that 
indoor practice would start on the following Mon- 
day, and that there would be a meeting of the 
baseball candidates at the trophy room of the 
gym on Wednesday night. Dutton grinned and 
said that that certainly suited him. Cross, the 
first-baseman, drew Danny aside. 

“That was your first conference with him, 
wasn’t it?” Cross asked. 

Danny nodded. 

“How was he?” 

“Fine!” said Danny. “This nine ought to run 
like a clock. Watch us after we get started.” 

“Did he say anything about Jerome? I’m a 
little worried about Jerry. I room with him and 


57 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


I know him better than any of you. He wants 
to be a real pitcher, Danny. How will Marty 
treat him? Will his record last year ” 

“Forget it,” said Danny decisively. “If Jerome 
starts to fret, you tell him that it’s up to him what 
happens this year. If Jerry can pitch he can have 
his regular turn.” 

Baseball fever raged at Manor Hall for the 
next three days. Marty Black didn’t lounge 
about the Yard quite as much, for the weather 
had turned raw and cold. Wednesday afternoon 
there was a great bustle and preparation, and 
Wednesday night the fellows who had decided to 
try for the nine began to move toward the gym 
soon after supper. 

Danny went off with the early starters. He 
found Marty Black already in the trophy room 
examining the baseballs and the footballs that had 
been won on many a hard-fought field. There 
were boating flags, too, but only a few of these, 
for Manor Hall had long ago given up this sport. 

Marty looked curiously at the fellows as they 
thronged in. The size of the gathering pleased 

53 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


him, and he was just the least bit impressed by 
the seriousness of the boys. When Danny intro- 
duced him he stood up somewhat awkwardly. 
The crowd started a cheer that rang sincere and 
true. The cheering must have seemed funny to 
Marty, for the amused look returned to his face 
and he winked across at Danny. 

“This meeting business is new stuff to me,” he 
began. “Where I came from we play ball and 
talk about it afterwards.” 

Danny caught his breath. Three or four of 
the boys glanced inquiringly at one another. 

“Of course,” Marty went on, “just because 
these meetings are new to me doesn’t say that 
they’re not all right. I’m not one for stopping 
things. Cap here said he wanted a meeting. So 
I told him to go ahead, and here we are. 

“You youngsters may think you know a lot 
about this game, but we’ll get along better if you 
forget it. You’ve been licked up here and you’re 
just floundering around. I want you fellows to 
get out the material. I’ll do the rest. Inside 
ball is what you want. The old-fashioned game 


59 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


has gone out of style. You want up-to-date base- 
ball with no whiskers on it. That’s what I’m 
going to give you this year. What you had last 
year or what you’ll get next year isn’t part of the 
plan. What you’ll get this year is what cleans 
up the bases. So I say if you think you know 
baseball, forget it.” 

By this time there was suppressed consterna- 
tion among the candidates. This was different 
from what Craig used to say to them at the base- 
ball meetings. They looked at Danny. But 
Danny had managed to achieve a calm, unruffled 
front. He wasn’t going to advertise that this 
talk was scaring him down to his toenails. 

“I can’t be fooled,” Marty Black went on, 
“and there’s no use trying to slip anything over 
on me. Craig gave me the dope books, and I 
know every fellow’s record. I understand that 
you lost your big games last year because your 
pitchers couldn’t get the ball over the plate. This 
pitching stuff is just as easy as anything else if 
you know how. I’ll show you how. And I’ll 
show you how to bat so you’ll have all the kid 


60 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


pitchers buffaloed. We’re going to have a big 
year. That’s what I’ve told Cap here, and that’s 
what I tell you.” 

Marty sat down. Danny saw at once that the 
boys, and particularly Jerome, were all at sea, and 
that something had to be done at once to save a 
bad situation. He stepped forward. 

“We welcome Marty here,” he said, “and we’ll 
work hard for him. What he said about records 
is true. He knows what every fellow has done.” 

Jerome seemed to wilt in his seat. 

“But we have agreed to let bygones be by- 
gones,” Danny went on. “We start next Mon- 
day with a clean slate. No fellow will be judged 
on what he did last season. It’s this season that 
counts.” 

Jerome straightened in his chair. 

“What he says about pitching is true. It’s easy 
to learn if you have somebody to teach you who 
knows how. Marty knows how. He’s had a 
lifetime of experience, and you all saw his record 
in The Greenie. It’s up to us to learn what he 
wants us to learn. If we do that we’re going to 


61 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


put enough tears on the Monroe campus to start 
new grass growing.” 

Some of the fellows laughed. “That’s the boy, 
Danny.” 

“There’s another thing, fellows,” the captain 
went on. “No knocking in the squad. We must 
all stand together, and play together, and go to- 
gether through good days and bad. We have a 
fifteen-games schedule. It’s almost impossible to 
win every game. When we do drop one — if we 
do — don’t start to say that this pitcher or that 
pitcher should have been used, or that this or that 
was wrong. Stand together. And keep up in 
your studies. We can’t afford to bother with a 
fellow who is behind. That’s all unless Marty 
wants to say something else.” 

But Marty, to Danny’s relief, shook his head. 

The atmosphere of the trophy room had bright- 
ened, but still there was a lack of warmth. The 
boys began to drift down the stairway and out 
into the cold, blustery night. Danny and Marty 
were left alone. 

“What do you think of it?” Danny asked. 


62 


THE BASEBALL MEETING 


“Have as many as you like, Cap,” Marty 
laughed. “I guess they won’t do any harm.” 

Danny walked back to the dormitory building 
keenly disappointed, but resolved that nothing 
should happen to prevent coach and captain from 
pulling together this year at Manor Hall. The 
meeting could have gone better, and perhaps 
he had made a mistake in saying the things he 
had said. Perhaps the fellows would see that 
he had really been answering Marty. He hoped 
not. 

He entered his room, and at once Dutton 
jumped to his feet. 

“What was he growling at us for?” the catcher 
demanded indignantly. 

“He wasn’t growling,” Danny answered. 
“He’s all right, Dut.” 

“He was growling,” Dutton insisted. “He 
must not think that just because he had a couple 
of fingers banged up in the days when Delehanty 
and Silent Mike Tiernan and Van Haltren were 
hammering them out that he can tell us we’re sap- 
heads and must forget all we know.” 


63 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


*“He wasn’t telling you that,” Danny insisted 
desperately. “It’s just his way.” 

“His way?” Dutton demanded incredulously. 
“Then you take this from me, Danny, he has a 
mighty poor way.” 


CHAPTER IV 

JEROME GOES WILD 

D URING the four days before the start of 
the indoor practice Danny made a heroic 
fight against a heartsick discouragement. 
He combated a restless feeling that showed itself 
among his veterans, and he kept telling Dutton 
how smoothly things would run once the actual 
work started. Several times, too, he made it a 
point to see that his path crossed that of Jerome. 
He told the pitcher breezily that great things were 
expected of him. 

“You know, Jerry,” he grinned, “you were 
always the hardest to hit.” 

“But I could never get them over the plate,” 
Jerome complained, and looked at the cap- 
tain as though Danny might tell him some 


65 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


wonderful secret that would bring about con- 
trol. 

“Huh!” said Danny airily. “Don’t let that 
worry you, Jerry. Marty Black will show you 
how to put that ball just where you want it to go.” 

“Will he?” Jerome asked eagerly. 

“He certainly will. You just make up your 
mind that you’re going to be some pitcher this 
year.” 

Each of these four afternoons the captain spent 
an hour or more with Marty Black. The man 
was now in a genial mood, and things began to 
run better. He told Danny many stories of the 
diamond in the big leagues, and after a time the 
boy felt himself warming to the new coach. He 
had learned that Marty’s days of schooling had 
been few. 

“I suppose that a baseball meeting does seem 
foolish to a chap who knows nothing about school 
spirit,” Danny reflected. “Oh, well, everything 
will be all right once we start to throw the ball 
around.” 

But in this thought Danny was wrong. For, 


66 


JEROME GOES WILD 


no sooner had indoor practice started on Monday, 
than the captain discovered that the coach had 
little sympathy with the cage. 

As a matter of fact, the cage was a poor apol- 
ogy for what a modern college squad now enjoys. 
For a preparatory school, however, it was fair. 
It was long and narrow, so that balls had to be 
batted straight down if they were to be batted at 
all. Pitching and catching were confined to one 
pair at a time. But at any rate this cage had 
served for several years. Despite its faults it was 
a good place for boys to work in their arms and 
get used to picking up the ball, for the dirt sur- 
face was always well groomed. 

The first day in the cage Marty strolled off to 
a corner and gloomily watched those boys who 
worked in the cage’s narrow space. He did not, 
as was Craig’s habit, walk about with a word of 
encouragement to this player or to that. In fact, 
he said absolutely nothing. Danny saw that his 
attitude made the candidates nervous. Even the 
veterans fell under the spell. The result was that 
the afternoon’s work accomplished nothing. 


67 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


After the last man had taken his turn at the 
showers and had gone, the captain approached 
the coach. 

“What do you think of them?” he asked. 

“Can’t tell, Cap,” said Marty. “Is this the 
only indoor place you’ve got?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, it’s pretty poor. Do you want to start 
any batting practice in here?” 

“Well,” Danny said, “the light isn’t all that 
it should be ” 

“Right!” said Marty. “This light would 
knock the batting eye out of Ty Cobb. You can’t 
have any batting here. Then what good is this 
cage? You can’t win ball games if your team 
doesn’t hit.” 

“But the fellows can work out their arms and 
get used to the feel of the ball, Marty.” 

“Not here,” said Marty. This cage is my idea 
of no place to play ball.” 

“But it gives us a chance to size up the players,” 
Danny argued desperately. 

“You can’t tell anything about them until they 


68 


JEROME GOES WILD 


go outdoors,” the coach said blandly. “There’s 
no argument about that, Cap. I think I know a 
ball player when I see one, but even I couldn’t 
pick them from seeing them here.” 

Danny felt that it was going to be hard work 
with a coach who said so many discouraging 
things. He knew that Craig had always made it 
a point to know quite a bit about the fellows be- 
fore they got to the field, and he wondered why 
Marty could not do likewise. 

“The school has always been used to the cage,” 

he said slowly. “If we stopped ” 

“Go to it,” said Marty with a wave of his 
hands. “I’m not trying to change custom. If 
the school wants the cage, go right ahead. You 
asked me what I thought and I told you. That’s 
all.” 

“If you’d say a word or two to the fel ” 

“I’ll talk to them, Cap,” was the answer. 
Danny walked back to the dormitory building 
feeling blue and despondent. He knew that much 
of what Marty said was true, but that fact did 
not mend matters. Even if the cage were poor, 


69 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


even if the light were such that a change to out- 
doors would be complete, couldn’t Marty assume 
a spirit of hopefulness? It was the coach’s com- 
plete lack of sympathy that made the captain feel 
that he was standing alone. 

Danny nursed one big fear. Suppose the can- 
didates awoke to the fact that Marty scorned the 
cage? The boy was sure that most of the fellows 
would instantly drop work. 

But to the captain’s joy, Marty next day made 
it a point to roam around a bit and say a few 
cheery words to the candidates. In the main he 
cautioned them to take things easily. 

“Just lob that ball,” he ordered. “No speed. 
Lots of time for fast work when we hit the sun- 
shine. No speed.” 

Toward the end of the afternoon the pitchers 
took turns throwing to Dutton. Jerome cast an 
apprehensive glance at Marty Black when his 
turn came, but Marty paid no attention to him. 
So the boy went to work and soon forgot the 
coach. Dutton very wisely neglected to hold his 
glove as a target, with the result that the pitcher 


70 


JEROME GOES WILD 


had no reason, when his turn ended, to worry 
about control. 

But if Jerome was happy to escape without 
notice, Danny was not happy to have it so. He 
had seen that Marty had eagerly watched Steele 
and King. Why, then, had Marty taken scant 
interest in the third member of the pitching staff? 

Danny’s temper flared. But in a moment he 
had himself under control. There was no proof 
that Marty intended to slight Jerome. Perhaps 
his interest had been attracted to some other point 
in the cage. 

“But Jerry’s going to get his chance,” Danny 
muttered, “if — if I have to get out and coach him 
myself.” 

A week passed in the cage. During that time 
Marty came daily to the practice and moved about 
among the fellows. But, despite the fact that he 
praised and joked, Danny slowly became aware 
that the practice was dead. Occasionally some 
boy like Cross or Talmage would start things 
buzzing for a few moments, but always there came 
the reaction. Oh, for one of the old afternoons 


7i 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


with Craig on the firing line and every fellow 
jumping alive! 

The captain did not blame Marty for the con- 
dition. He blamed himself. He thought that in 
some way he was failing to fill his squad with the 
fighting spirit. So he took to driving the boys. 
They were hardened now, and muscles had lost 
their stiffness. He started to force the play to 
the utmost limits that the cage permitted. 

“What’s the idea, Cap?” Marty asked that 
afternoon after the last candidate had departed. 

“What idea?” Danny asked. 

“All this fire and fury this afternoon. What’s 
the idea?” 

“Don’t you see how lifeless the fellows are?” 
the captain cried. “I’m trying to ginger them.” 

“No use,” said Marty with a note of finality 
in his voice. “This cage would take the go out 
of a ” 

“Can’t you give me a little encouragement now 
and then?” Danny blurted. 

Marty’s eyes opened with surprise. “WhaPs 
wrong?” he demanded. “Do you want me to 


72 


JEROME GOES WILD 


say this cage is fine for practice? That’s not my 
style. I say what I think. Why, you haven’t 
enough baths, for one thing.” 

“But we’ve gone along all these years this 
way,” Danny retorted, “and things haven’t been 
so dead before.” 

“Maybe the fellows are waking up to what a 
false alarm this cage is,” Marty suggested. “The 
trouble, Cap, is this: You boys want to play ball 
before April. You can’t get into condition here. 
Why don’t you go and see the chief — Dr. Wil- 
mer, I mean — and ask for a three weeks’ trip for 
the nine? You could arrange games ” 

Danny groaned and shook his head. “Impos- 
sible, Marty. This isn’t a big league team. This 
is a prep school.” At any other time the boy 
would have laughed at so absurd a suggestion, but 
now he wasn’t in the mood for laughter. 

“March games are March games,” said Marty, 
“no matter what kind of team you have. You 
can’t get away from the weather. And as for 
encouraging you — ” He looked at Danny a mo- 
ment. “What do you want me to do?” 


73 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Get into the game,” said Danny swiftly. “Oh, 
I’m not finding fault, Marty. I don’t mean it that 
way. But I’m trying to stir things up, and you’re 
just telling me I can’t instead of jumping in and 
giving me a hand.” 

“So that’s it, eh? Well, I’ll jump in. Any- 
thing else, Cap?” 

“No,” said Danny weakly. He was sorry now 
that he had spoken and he wondered if Marty 
would take offense. But Marty whistled cheerily 
as he adjusted his cravat in front of a cracked 
mirror. Then he waited until Danny was dressed, 
and together they walked toward the Yard, with 
the coach chatting as though nothing had hap- 
pened. As they parted he said: 

“Speed it is to-morrow, Cap. There isn’t any- 
thing else now, is there?” 

“Nothing,” said Danny. As he went toward 
the dormitory building he suddenly realized the 
cause of Marty Black’s unconcern. Marty Black 
looked upon him as a whimpering boy and at his 
request as a whim that it would do no harm to 
humor. 


74 


JEROME GOES WILD 


Danny went up the dormitory outdoor steps 
feeling that he would like to kick his toes savagely 
against the stone. He and the coach were making 
no progress toward a sympathetic understanding 
of the school’s needs. 

Next afternoon Danny hurried to the cage im- 
mediately after classes. He found Marty there, 
and Marty wore his big league uniform. The 
captain stopped short with a gasp. Marty 
laughed good-naturedly. 

“Think this will wake them up, Cap?” 

“Oh!” cried Danny. “Why didn’t we think 
of wearing that before?” 

It was the first time that Marty had given a 
hint that perhaps he might know boys. Danny 
felt as though a load was lifted from his mind. 
To-day’s practice would surely go with a bang. 

“Stand where they can see you when they come 
in,” he pleaded. 

Marty grinned. “Right here,” he said. 

That uniform, suggestive as it was of glorious 
days on a big league diamond, acted on the squad 
as a tonic. In the dressing-room the fellows 


75 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


cheered and sang and performed feats of horse- 
play. It was the first time they had romped in 
so carefree a manner since they had come to the 
cage. 

Finally the fellows came out to the practice. 
At once the good humor left Marty Black’s face. 
Danny called off the boys who were to handle the 
ball. 

‘‘Speed there,” Marty cried sharply. “No 
more girlie-girlie baseball. Get some action. 
Come on there, Talmage, what are you dreaming 
about? Throw the ball.” 

Talmage, who had been staring at the coach as 
though he had not heard, threw to Dutton. Dut- 
ton dropped the ball. 

“Pick it up,” Marty yelled. “Don’t stand there 
looking at it. Pick it up. Now what are you 
going to do with it?” 

Dutton threw it to Cross. Cross, who seemed 
to have held his head, tossed to Talmage, and 
Talmage allowed the leather to go through his 
hands. 

“Oh !” Marty wailed. “Somebody get a police- 
76 


JEROME GOES WILD 


man. You’re starting in early with your errors, 
Talmage. See if you can line it into Dutton’s 
glove. Line it now.” 

Talmage lined it with a viciousness that sent 
it into the catcher’s big mitt with a loud, spank- 
ing noise. “How’s that?” he cried angrily. 

“Better,” shouted Marty. “Everybody work. 
Lively now.” 

Talmage’s retort had been rank insubordina- 
tion. But in the big league circles in which Marty 
Black had played, the man who could not talk 
back was thought to be minus in spunk. Marty 
did not see the disloyalty. To his mind the retort 
showed that Talmage was there with the “pep.” 

Quick-witted Danny guessed as much. But he 
knew that tilts such as these were bad for the 
squad, whether Marty understood so or not. And 
he felt, with a sinking of the heart, that big league 
sarcasm was not the proper dose to deal out to 
schoolboys. Craig’s tongue could lash on occa- 
sion, but not this way. Oh, why would not Marty, 
who understood so much about baseball, try to 
understand something about boys? 


77 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Along the cage wall, where the other candidates 
were lined, there was much whispering. Danny 
paid no attention to this. He had his eyes on the 
play as the ball sped back and forth. He wanted 
no more fireworks, for the sparks might start a 
blaze in the squad that would do damage before 
it was put out. 

Talmage missed another catch. Marty’s voice 
cracked out a flow of sarcasm. 

“Steady, Tal,” Danny called. “Steady! Get 
in the game, fellows. Make it travel. That’s 
the ticket. Now, Dut! Jump! Good catch.” 

“Rotten throw,” barked Marty. 

Ten minutes later Marty yelled for a new 
squad, and announced that they couldn’t be any 
worse than the boys who had just been playing. 
Cross, Talmage, Dutton and two other candidates 
walked off toward the dressing-rooms. The new 
squad took the center of the cage and fumbled 
outrageously. Marty announced that a team of 
milkmaids could do better. And so the practice 
ran along for the afternoon. 

At the finish Danny felt as though he never 

78 


JEROME GOES WILD 


again wanted to hear anybody say “Speed.” The 
squad was demoralized. In the dressing-room 
he tried in a stumbling sort of way to tell Marty 
that he had been too severe. 

“You wanted pepper, didn’t you?” the coach 
demanded. “Must I say ‘Please’ whenever I 
coach. I don’t get you, Cap.” 

No, and the trouble was that Marty would 
probably not understand if the captain had ex- 
plained for a week. The coach had grown up 
in a baseball school where men gave hard knocks 
and took them. 

“We’ll let up on the ginger for a while,” Danny 
said weakly. 

“Now you’re talking,” Marty cried in good 
humor. “You’re coming around. Didn’t I tell 
you the cage was no place for anything?” 

Danny nodded. Later, when he got to his 
room, Dutton looked at him with an air that said 
what-do-you-think-of-things-now? But Danny had 
no comments to make. He wanted time to think 
out this latest twist. 

Next day, and the next, and the next, the squad 


79 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


found the cage practice back along its old lines. 
But the damage had been done. There was a 
feeling that said that the fellows did not know 
just at what moment there might be another out- 
break. The result was nervous, fretful work — 
and Marty shook his head wisely and said he had 
no use for the cage. 

By this time the pitchers had their arms in 
shape to use speed. Marty now taught them a 
delivery calculated to make a base runner stick 
close to his bag. Jerome was instructed with 
Steele and King, but somehow many of the fel- 
lows awoke to the fact that Jerome wasn’t receiv- 
ing much attention from the coach. 

Cross reported to Danny that the pitcher was 
worried. Danny went to his room. 

“Look here, Jerry,” he said, “you know that 
Marty has peculiar ways, don’t you — I mean 
peculiar to us fellows?” 

“Yes,” said Jerome. 

“Now if Craig wasn’t paying much attention to 
you, you’d say that that meant you hadn’t much 
chance. Right?” 


80 


JEROME GOES WILD 


“Right.” 

“But Marty doesn’t do things Craig’s way. 
Does he now?” 

“He doesn’t,” said Cross grimly. 

Danny flashed him a look. “None of that, 
Cross.” The captain turned back to Jerome. 
“Does he, Jerry?” 

“No.” 

“Then you can’t reason things out the way you 
could if Craig was here. You see that, don’t 
you?” 

“Y— yes.” 

“Of course you do. Why, look here, Jerry, 
Marty hops on a man who doesn’t fill the bill. 
He hasn’t said anything to you, has he?” 

“No.” 

“Well, did you hear what he said to Tal and 
Dut that day in the cage?” 

Yes, Jerome had heard. He took heart. And 
next day in the cage he pitched to Dutton as 
though he was going to go to the school team as 
soon as the real outdoor work started. 

King, burly and strong, and Steele, with his 

81 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


habit of winning a game he thought he couldn’t 
lose, were decent to Jerome. They knew that 
they were receiving the bulk of Marty Black’s 
attention, but they did not speak of it in the Yard 
nor did they speak of it to each other. They 
were of the clean, square type. They kept telling 
Jerome that he was better than he had been a 
year ago, and they secretly wondered what the 
coach proposed to do with him. 

The day came when Marty brought a piece of 
board, shaped like a home plate, and threw it 
down on the floor of the cage. 

“Let them shoot for control,” ^e told Dutton. 

“Straight balls or curves?” the catcher asked. 

“Oh, not many curves.” 

So Dutton began calling for the ball high and 
low, outside corner and in. That first day Marty 
did not come near the pitchers, and Jerome did 
fairly well — so well in fact that Dutton walked 
back to the dormitory with him and kept telling 
him that his control was becoming quite healthy 
and fat. 

“Two weeks outdoors, Jerry,” said the catcher, 


82 


JEROME GOES WILD 


“and I’ll be able to hold up my glove and close 
my eyes.’* 

Jerome gave a nervous, pleased laugh. “You’re 
fooling me, Dut.” 

“I’m not,” said Dutton stoutly. 

So, when next Jerome pitched with Steele and 
King in the cage, he had an ounce of confidence 
in his makeup. Marty Black came over that day 
and watched. The coach stayed all the while 
Steele and King worked, and gave directions. 
Then Jerome started and he yawned. A minute 
or so later he walked away. 

Danny had seen the action. His hot blood 
prompted him to protest, but he held his peace. 
What good would it do? He’d have to wait until 
Marty saw fit to notice the hurler. 

“He didn’t give me any directions, did he?” 
Jerome asked Dutton after the practice. 

“He didn’t have to,” said Dutton quickly. 
“Your control’s coming strong, Jerry.” 

In fact the boy had shown a better mastery of 
the ball than he had ever displayed in the past. 
At that there were times when he was as wild as 


83 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


a March day. But in the main he showed signs 
of improvement. Dutton said as much to Danny. 

“When is Marty Black going to notice this 
fellow ?” he demanded bluntly. 

“Marty knows the game,” said Danny. “He’ll 
take Jerome in hand when things are right.” 

“Well,” Dutton insisted, “when are they going 
to be right?” 

Danny did not try to answer the question. 

“Look here,” said the catcher. “It won’t do 
any harm if I talk to Marty, will it?” 

Danny felt a sense of panic. “What will you 
say to him?” 

“Oh, I’ll ask him to watch Jerome.” 

Danny sighed with relief. No, it wouldn’t do 
any harm to say just that much. He told his 
roommate to go ahead, but not to argue. 

“If Marty says wait until we go outdoors,” he 
warned, “you keep still and wait.” 

Dutton nodded. 

Next afternoon, as Marty came from the dress- 
ing room, a voice halted him: 

“Can I have a minute, Marty?” 


JEROME GOES WILD 


The coach turned and found Dutton alongside 
him. “Blaze away, young fellow. What can I 
do for you?” 

“Would you mind looking Jerome over this 
afternoon?” 

Marty stared at the boy a moment. Abruptly 
he turned away. “I’ll give him a look,” he said. 

Gleefully Dutton whispered the good news to 
Danny. The captain made up his mind that when 
Marty came down to survey Jerome he would be 
near to hear what was said. 

So, while King and while Steele pitched, Danny 
stayed within earshot. But Marty Black did not 
come near these hurlers. Then Jerome started 
to work. A few minutes later Marty came down 
the cage and stopped. Jerome had the ball in his 
hands and was all prepared to pitch. 

“Well, old horse,” said the coach, “how are 
you? Still as wild as ever?” 

Jerome pitched — and the ball sailed ten feet 
over Dutton’s head. 


CHAPTER y 

JEROME GETS A CHANCE 

W HILE Dutton was chasing the ball 
down to the end of the cage Danny 
walked off toward the dressing-rooms. 
He was so disgusted and outraged at the moment 
that he did not dare trust himself to remain. He 
had pleaded for no knocking in the squad. 
Couldn’t Marty see the damage he was doing? 
Couldn’t the man say an encouraging word once 
in a while? These were not professional players 
who had to be whipped into line. They were 
boys, and they had to be treated as boys. 

Danny, as he walked away, decided that he 
would dress and get out. But he thought better 
of this. Marty might say more unwise things, 
and perhaps he had better remain. He walked 


86 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


back to where Jerome stood waiting for the ball 
that Dutton had not yet returned. 

Danny suspected that the catcher was purposely 
delaying in order that the pitcher might steady 
down. Jerome’s face was flushed, and he looked 
as though he wanted to cry. Marty was stand- 
ing in an attitude of weariness. He winked at 
Danny with an air of having known all along that 
Jerome was just such a pitcher. The captain 
swallowed hard. 

“Accidents will happen, Jerry,” he said. “The 
best of them wild-pitch at times. Chesbro of the 
Yankees once threw away an American League 
pennant with a wild pitch.” 

“But Chesbro was a good pitcher,” Jerome 
faltered. 

“So are you,” said Danny, and looked 
Marty. The coach said nothing. 

But despite the captain’s encouragement Jerome 
did not regain the form he had been showing. 
He*kept missing the plate two pitches out of every 
three. Finally, when Danny told him gently that 
that was enough for one day, he hurried past 

87 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Marty to the dressing-room without a word. 
Dutton followed at his heels. 

“These wild birds never get tame, Cap,” said 
the coach. “Of course it’s all right for you to tell 
him he can pitch ” 

“Why didn’t you tell him something like that?” 
Danny flared. 

“Me?” Marty asked in surprise. “That’s not 
my style. I don’t believe»in sugar and water. I 
never saw a nine that amounted to a rap» that 
wasn’t rough and ready. If a fellow has to be 
babied, what is he going to do when a pitcher 
sticks the ball around his chin? Why, Cap, he’d 
throw his bat away and run for the dressing-room.” 

“But a word of encouragement — ” Danny 
began. 

“You can’t give a pitcher control by talking to 
him,” Marty interrupted. “He has it or he hasn’t. 
No two ways of looking at it. This bird is as 
wild as a Kansas cyclone, and if you’ve ever seen 
a Kansas cyclone ” 

“I haven’t,” said Danny. He began to walk 
toward the dressing-room. 

88 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


“Well,” Marty said, undisturbed, “you haven’t 
missed much.” 

Danny knew that Dutton would be waiting for 
him in the room. Nor was he disappointed. The 
catcher glared wrathfully. 

“That was raw,” he burst out. 

“Oh, Marty didn’t mean anything by it,” 
Danny defended. 

“Of course he didn’t,” cried Dutton. “He 
never means anything. Why, if Craig was here, 
Craig would be talking to Jerry like a Dutch uncle. 
Craig would be tickled all over to see Jerry’s con- 
trol coming around. But Marty Black ” 

“How did he know it would upset Jerry?” 
Danny cried, fishing wildly for something to say 
that would turn the bitterness of his roommate’s 
speech. “I’ll bet Marty only meant it as a joke.” 

“It was a joke, too, wasn’t it?” Dutton asked 
with a sorrowful shake of his head. “Why, Jerry 
had been going pretty good. Then — zingo — I 
couldn’t have reached it with a ladder.” 

Danny, in the hope that he might end the argu- 
ment, started to wash his hands. The door 


89 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


opened suddenly and Cross, the first-baseman, 
came in. 

‘‘What’s Marty jumping on Jerry for?” he de- 
manded. “The poor kid’s all gone to pieces.” 

Danny dried his hands wearily. “Marty didn’t 
mean ” 

“Rats!” said Cross. “He’s been giving King 
and Steele all kinds of attention and has been 
walking away whenever Jerry works. If that’s 
fair ” 

“Cross!” said Danny sharply. 

The first-baseman stared at the floor. “All 
right, Danny,” he said. “I deserved that. I 
don’t mean he’s unfair. But he isn’t handling us 
fellows right.” 

“He doesn’t mean anything,” said Dutton 
briskly. “He thinks we’ll take what he says just 
as a matter of form — like a real ball player would 
take it as part of the game. He means all right, 
Cross.” 

Danny stared at his roommate. Was this the 
Dutton who had been growling angrily but a few 
moments before? The first-baseman departed 


90 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


after the captain had assured him again that 
Jerry would get a chance to show his worth. 
Then Danny turned to the catcher. 

“Oh, cut it,” said Dutton. “Don’t begin any 
thanks for saying that to Cross. I’ll tell you 
what I think right in your ear. But I know what 
you’re up against and I’m not making things any 
harder for you. And now just hold your ear for 
this: I don’t think Marty Black fits.” 

“He’ll have us all shouting for him before the 
finish,” Danny said loyally. “He knows base- 
ball ” 

“Of course he does,” the catcher answered 
scornfully. “He knows too much baseball. 
When he tries to tell us it’s like beating eggs with 
an oar.” 

The news of what Marty had said to Jerome 
had spread, and in the next few days Danny was 
conscious of a feeling of dissatisfaction in the 
squad. It was an undercurrent of feeling. It 
could scarcely be analyzed. It did not show itself 
on the surface. But all the time it was there, and 
all the time it ate into the hearts of the candidates. 


9i 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


So February dragged along. Marty, misinter- 
preting the attitude of the boys, decided that they 
were tired of the forlorn cage. Up to this point 
he had kept his thoughts from all but Danny. 
Now he began to hint that not only was the time 
wasted, but that he would have to undo most of 
the work when they got outdoors. Some of the 
fellows believed this, and others did not know 
exactly what to believe. All in all things seemed 
to be in a sorry mess, and Danny longed for the 
day when they could get out to the field. Once 
there, he thought, much of the trouble would 
disappear. 

With the end of the first week of March the 
weather turned considerably warmer. Danny be- 
gan to be hopeful. Then for no apparent reason 
it turned cold. Snow fell for twenty-four hours, 
and there was a foot on the ground. The cap- 
tain, in disgust, called off that day’s practice. 

That snow, however, was winter’s end. There 
followed five days of warmth and slush, and then 
the snow was gone. Spring came in with a nod 
and a smile, and settled gently over Manor Hall. 


92 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


The grass turned green. And on March 17th 
the nine for the first time went outdoors. 

The first days out were trying, but nobody no- 
ticed that. The ground was so soft that it was 
difficult to run, and the ball burrowed into the 
soft soil wherever it fell. Yet the squad managed 
to get quite a lot of practice. 

Marty, holding to his viewpoint that it was 
impossible to get a line on the fellows in the cage, 
had not reduced his squad. Now he cut viciously. 
A whole string of boys cleaned out their lockers. 
And in the evening conferences he held with 
Danny, he began to say that the nine didn’t seem 
as though it would be overstrong at any point. 

“Look here, Marty,” Danny argued, “your 
viewpoint is wrong. You’re used to the fast play 
of the leagues. What we do here looks slow to 
you. We can’t say offhand that this or that fel- 
low won’t do. It seems to me that it’s up to us to 
make players out of what we have, and not to 
abandon a fellow just because he doesn’t seem to 
hit it off at the start.” 

“Maybe I do expect too much, Cap,” Marty 


93 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


said thoughtfully. His concern was so real that 
Danny, thinking this an opportune time, said 
eagerly : 

“Let me talk to you about Jerome, Marty. He 
has better curves than either Steele or King. Pass- 
ing batters has been his big weakness. Look over 
last year’s records. He never was hit hard. It 
ought to be possible to get him to put the ball 
over.” 

“Those wild birds — ” the coach began. 

“How is he ever going to get control unless 
somebody takes him in hand?” Danny inter- 
rupted. 

“These pitchers,” Marty answered, “who throw 
them over a catcher’s head — Oh, well, I’ll try 
to forget that. I haven’t much confidence, but 
I’ll try to teach him.” 

“I know you could,” Danny said eagerly, “if 
you’d try.” 

The captain left that conference feeling de- 
cidedly better. Marty’s expression that perhaps 
he had been expecting too much sounded like the 
beginning of better things. It gave Danny cour- 


94 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


age to fight what dissatisfaction still remained in 
the squad. 

For, despite the activity of the outdoor work, 
there were still some of the fellows who mur- 
murmed against the coach. They remembered 
his sarcasm in the cage, and what he had said to 
Jerome. 

Danny thought that the best way to overcome 
this feeling was to make a point of showing that 
he and Marty were great friends. He began to 
make sure that he and the coach always came on 
the field together, and always left it together, too. 
He deferred to Marty in the practice, and on the 
whole things began to look decidedly better. 

By this time the ground had lost its sogginess. 
The play became brisk and lively. Talmage, at 
third, speedily showed Marty that he was not the 
show-off kind. Marty told Danny that he was 
mistaken about Talmage. Marty, in fact, seemed 
to have developed a new disposition. Perhaps it 
was because he was getting a lot of healthy out- 
door exercise instead of wandering around an 
indoor cage. 


95 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


But with respect to the pitchers the coach did not 
alter to any great extent. He tried hard to give 
Jerome a fair chance, but he could not altogether 
overcome his prejudice. For a while Jerome was 
nervous and flustered. After a time, however, 
seeing that this man who had played big 
league ball did not bite him, the boy began to 
take heart. He got just a shade better in his 
control, and then, with a little more practice, just 
a shade better again. Dutton told Danny that the 
pitcher was coming back. 

“If Marty would go out there with a happy 
way of encouraging him,” the catcher hinted, 
“you’d see an improvement that would knock your 
eye out.” 

“But he is improving, isn’t he?” Danny de- 
manded. 

“That’s because he isn’t being bothered,” Dut- 
ton retorted. 

“Well,” Danny grinned, “Marty won’t bother 
him again, I guess. He — he’s changed, Dut, 
isn’t he?” 

“A lot,” said the catcher with conviction. “The 
96 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


fellows are delighted. I know. They’ll tell me 
things they wouldn’t tell you.” 

Another week passed, and the ’Varsity began 
to take form. Three days before the opening 
game with Mt. Merry Academy, Marty and 
Danny posted the batting order after a lengthy 
conference. It said: 


Cross, first base. 
Chapman, left field. 
Phipps, second base. 
Baggs, center field. 
Talmage, third base. 
Lee, shortstop. 
Farrell, right field. 



Orth 


It was a team of veterans with the exception 
of Farrell. And Farrell, a sophomore, went back 
to the dormitory building that evening with his 
head in the clouds. 


97 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


None of the boys doubted that Dutton would 
catch the opening game. But who would pitch? 

This was a question that bothered Danny. 
The day after the batting order was posted, he 
and Marty spent almost an hour watching Jerome, 
Steele and King. Jerome showed pretty good 
form, but the captain did not give him a thought. 
On the way back to the locker room after prac- 
tice Marty said: 

“King’s the bird to stop Mt. Merry, Cap.” 

Danny nodded. “Yes, I guess King is our 
man.” 

But that night word came to him that Mt. 
Merry had a sorry nine. And at once his mind 
jumped to Jerome. 

The pitcher was improving. Mt. Merry would 
probably prove easy. Why not jump Jerome into 
the box? A victory would give him confidence, 
and with confidence there was no telling just how 
effective he would become. It seemed to Danny 
like mighty good logic. He was resolved that if 
next day Jerry warmed up well the assignment to 
pitch the opening game would be his. 


98 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


So next afternoon Danny kept close to the 
pitchers. When the ’Varsity infield practiced, a 
substitute was at second base. Danny’s interest 
was so great, especially while Jerome worked, that 
Marty Black strolled out that way. 

“Anxious about King, Cap?” the coach asked. 

‘No,” Danny answered. “I’m watching Je- 
rome.” 

“What for?” 

“I think I’ll pitch him to-morrow. Word came 
from a graduate last night that Mt. Merry is easy. 
If Jerome can get away with the game it will give 
him heart, and heart is what he needs just now. 
Anyhow, we didn’t announce King, so nobody will 
know that we’ve made a switch.” 

“I can’t see this Jerome,” said Marty. 

“Well,” Danny conceded, “it would be crazy 
to send him against a good nine, but against Mt. 
Merry ” 

“We’ll pitch King,” said Marty. 

“We’ll pitch Jerome,” Danny said distinctly. 
“I’m the captain, and it’s up to me who plays.” 

“And I’m the coach,” said Marty, “and the 


99 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


coach is the same as a manager, and the captain 
has nothing to do but direct the play on the field.” 

“This isn’t the big league,” Danny retorted. 
“The fellows elected me and I’m responsible. 
We’re going to need Jerry before the season’s 
over, and now’s the time to get him in shape. 
He’s going to pitch.” 

The man and the boy were out of earshot of 
the pitchers. But King and Steele were looking 
at them, and so was Dutton. The ’Varsity in- 
field had momentarily stopped the practice and 
was beginning to watch. All over the field there 
was a tightening that said that the squad guessed 
that something had gone wrong. 

“This isn’t the place for any more talk,” said 
Marty curtly. “I’ll see the athletic committee.” 

Danny, without a word, ran toward the infield. 
He would try to lull any suspicion that there had 
been trouble. 

“Take the pitchers, Marty,” he called over his 
shoulder. Then to the infielders: “Lively, now. 
Come in on the grass. Who’s hitting? You, 
Orth? Keep the ball on the ground. Three on 


ioo 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


the bases and none out. Get the ball home, fel- 
lows 1” 

The infield, pretending that the bases were all 
occupied, crept away in. Orth tossed the ball into 
the air and slashed it at Talmage. Tal made a 
one-hand pickup, and drove the leather home. 

Danny danced on one foot. “That’s the stuff. 
Still three on. Lively, fellows.” 

Out of the corner of one eye he could see Marty 
directing the pitchers. He was sorry that the 
clash had come, and he began to blame himself. 
He kept calling to the players, but his brain 
worked rapidly on another subject. Why had he 
not been more diplomatic? Perhaps if he had 
coaxed a bit — He shook his head. Something 
told him that coaxing would have done no good. 
Marty had decided long before the cage practice 
that Jerome would not do. Even a few minutes 
ago the coach had refused to listen. 

There was a spirit of fair play in Danny that 
objected to so high-handed a method. If Jerome 
had been given a fair chance and then had been 
turned down the case would have been different. 

IOI 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


But to be cast aside without a hearing — That 
was not the way to treat a fellow. 

“Let Marty go to the athletic committee,” 
Danny muttered. “I know I’m right and I’m 
going to hold my ground. We must develop 
Jerry. Suppose anything should happen to Steele 
or to King?” 

Meanwhile Marty was gloomily watching the 
pitchers. 

“These rich kids who go to boarding school 
have things too much their own way,” he reflected. 
Not for a moment did he doubt the wisdom of 
the course he had taken with respect to Jerome. 
Hadn’t he seen enough giddy pitchers to know 
the breed? Once in a while one of these harum- 
scarum twirlers might become respectable, but 
when that happened the event was a miracle. 

After a while the coach moved away toward 
the locker room. For the benefit of the squad he 
called, “I’m going in, Cap.” Danny waved his 
hand. Marty ran lightly across the outfield. 

After he was dressed he crossed the' athletic 
field to the Yard. Pilgrim, the student member 


102 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


of the athletic committee, was on the dormitory- 
steps. 

“Can I see you, young fellow?” Marty asked. 

Pilgrim jumped up. “Certainly,” he said. 
“Come up to my room.” 

Marty tramped upstairs. As soon as they were 
in the room Pilgrim dragged a chair over to the 
cool window. 

“Sit there, Marty,” he said. “Now, what is 
it? Any trouble?” 

“Yes.” 

“What is it?” 

“This Captain Phipps is kicking over the beans 
and trying to run things. We had a row this 
afternoon. He won’t let me pitch ” 

“Oh, just a minute,” Pilgrim pleaded in dis- 
tress. “I guess this is going to be too much for 
me, Marty. Let’s go over and see Professor 
Serviss. He’s the faculty member of the com- 
mittee.” 

So they tramped from the Yard off to Pro- 
fessor Serviss’s home. The instructor, as Pilgrim 
had done, made Marty comfortable at a window. 


103 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“No trouble, I hope,” he said with a smile. 

“Danny Phipps and Marty have had a row,” 
Pilgrim answered. 

“Ah!” said Professor Serviss gravely. He 
looked at Marty. “Will you tell me just what 
happened, Mr. Black?” 

“Marty,” said the coach. “Just plain Marty. 
That’s what the boys call me. Why, as to this 
trouble, I picked King yesterday to pitch against 
Mt. Merry. Cap, he agreed. But to-day he says 
that Jerome will pitch, and he goes on to tell me 
that we’ll need Jerome later and that he must get 
his courage up by beating Mt. Merry. Now, I 
think this Jerome is so wild ” 

“What did you say when Mr. Phipps suggested 
Jerome?” the Professor interrupted. 

“I said there was nothing doing and that King 
would pitch.” 

“And what did Mr. Phipps say to that?” 

“He told me that Jerome would work, and that 
he had the say and that I didn’t.” 

“Was Mr. Phipps impudent?” 

“Well, no. But he was mighty stubborn.” 


104 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


Pilgrim gave a ghost of a smile. Professor 
Serviss nodded. 

“I see. What was it you wanted to know, 
Mr. Black ?” 

“I want to know what’s what.” 

The Professor stared thoughtfully at the ceil- 
ing as though he were choosing his words. 

“The school has a saying,” he began, “that the 
captain is king. That saying has been a part of 
the school ever since organized athletics came in. 
We back it up. If a poor captain is elected, the 
boys suffer; but as they elect him, and as it is 
entirely up to them, they are not apt to make that 
mistake twice in succession.” 

“Look here,” said Marty, “have these captains 
been bucking Craig?” 

Pilgrim looked uncomfortable. But Professor 
Serviss answered calmly: 

“In the main, the captains have deferred to 
Mr. Craig, and I presume that his word has been 
law in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. It 
must be remembered, however, that Mr. Craig 
has been here so long that he is really one of the 


105 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


boys. But the fact remains that a captain can 
overrule Mr. Craig at any time. We realize that 
you have had great experience, and we hope Cap- 
tain Phipps will make the most of that experience. 
Nevertheless, we are bound by school tradition. 
The captain is the final authority.” 

“Do you mean,” Marty demanded, rather 
stung, “that the captain has more authority than 
the athletic committee or the faculty?” 

“So far as handling his nine is concerned, yes, 
and provided there is no interference with the 
rules and regulations of the school. The school, 
of course, owns the grounds, and if anything were 
done that displeased the faculty, the boys could 
be forbidden to play. So that after all the fac- 
ulty has the final authority, but such authority 
would never be exercised unless to prevent play 
altogether.” 

Marty’s face wore a look of vast surprise. 
“Well, this is a funny note,” he said. “I thought 
I was hired to coach this team. I didn’t expect 
to have any kid telling me how’s how.” 

“From what you have told me,” Professor Ser- 
106 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


viss observed, “I do not see as Captain Phipps 
has interfered with the coaching. He has merely 
exercised his right to pick the team that takes the 
field.” 

“It’s the same thing,” said Marty. 

“I am sorry you look at the matter in that 
light,” the professor said gravely. “It is the wish 
of the committee that harmony prevail. Person- 
ally I think that Captain Phipps is inclined to 
listen to reason. However, you asked the ques- 
tion as to what the captain’s authority is, and I 
have been obliged to answer you. Now, is there 
anything else, Mr. Black?” 

“Nothing,” said Marty. 

He walked back to the Yard with Pilgrim. 
The baseball practice was over, and some of the 
baseball players were loitering near the dormitory 
steps. Marty went off to his lodgings, and Pil- 
grim made his way to Danny’s room. He was 
glad to find the captain alone. 

“Marty has been to see Professor Serviss,” the 
visitor announced. 

Danny nodded. “He told me he was going.” 

107 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Pilgrim came closer. “Look here, Danny, 
can’t you let King pitch for the sake of peace?” 

“I can’t,” said Danny. “I’ve told Jerry he’s 
to go in. Anyway, I’d pitch him if I hadn’t told 
him. It isn’t that I’m bull-headed. I know Je- 
rome, with control, will make our best pitcher. 
Just between you and me, Craig thinks so, too. 
We’re going to need Jerry later. How are we 
going to play fifteen games with only Steele and 
King?” 

“All right,” said Pilgrim. “But can’t you 
pitch Jerry in the second game?” 

“No. If I must use him, what’s the use of 
sending him in against a tough proposition if I 
can get him away to a good start? I’m not fight- 
ing Marty. He’s all right, but he can’t see that 
we’re only boys and have to be handled differently 
than men.” 

“You wouldn’t cross Craig this way,” Pilgrim 
grumbled. 

“I wouldn’t have to,” said Danny. “Craig 
understands Manor Hall and he understands us. 
He’d be pitching Jerry to-morrow, and he 

108 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


wouldn’t be going around asking him if he were 
as wild as ever.” 

Pilgrim scratched his head. “All right, Danny. 
Maybe you know best.” 

“I think what I’m doing is for the best,” Danny 
answered. “I’m looking further ahead than this 
one game.” 

After Pilgrim had gone, Dutton came in. 

“There’s a rumor that you and Marty have 
had a row,” he announced. He looked keenly at 
his roommate. 

“Nothing to it,” Danny answered promptly. 

“I don’t know about that,” the catcher said 
wisely. “You and Marty had an argument on the 
field and the fellows think it was about Jerome.” 

“It wasn’t,” Danny cried quickly. 

“Then what was it about?” 

Danny was trapped. “Dut,” he confessed mis- 
erably, “if you breathe a word about this I’ll have 
a bat bouncing on your head. Marty wanted to 
pitch King, and I picked Jerome. He went to 
Professor Serviss about it. That’s how things 
stand now.” 


109 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Was he nasty about it?” 

“Oh, no. Only he thought that he was the 
boss and that I had nothing to say. He means 
all right, Dut, only he can’t seem to understand 
the way things run here.” 

“Well,” Dutton observed, “he had better get 
to understand things, or else there’ll be a crash 
some place. Some of the fellows saw him pick 
up Pilgrim, and then they saw him and Pilgrim 
walk to Professor Serviss’s house. Then that 
talk you had with him and your naming Jerry to 
pitch, and everybody knowing how he acts toward 
Jerry — The fellows just about put two and two 
together.” 

Danny dropped into a chair. “There’s trouble 
every way I turn,” he groaned. “I suppose when 
Jerome hears the talk he’ll go higher than a 
kite.” 

And that was exactly what happened to the 
pitcher. At supper he looked across the dining 
hall at Danny with a harassed expression in his 
eyes. On the way out of the hall Danny whis- 
pered to Dutton: 


no 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


“You get after the fellows and convince them 
there’s no trouble.” 

“Where are you going?” the catcher demanded. 

“I want to see Jerry.” 

An hour later the captain came from Jerome’s 
room. Out in the corridor he mopped his face. 
He had argued, and argued, and argued, and 
though he had steadied the pitcher a bit, he knew 
that he had not convinced him. 

Next day Danny went to the locker room feel- 
ing that Marty might show that they had dif- 
fered. The captain knew from Dutton that the 
nine, after pondering the situation, was not at all 
sure that there had really been a row. There- 
fore, if the coach was to arrive with a laugh and 
a smile, the situation could indeed be bettered. 

In a spirit of apprehension the nine dressed 
for the game. For the first time that season 
the school cheers sounded from the stands, but 
the cheers didn’t seem to make the players take 
heart. 

And then Marty came in. He stopped for a 
moment to ask Baggs if he had many hits in his 


hi 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


bat that day. Baggs answered seriously that he 
hoped so. Then the coach came down the 
room. 

“Hello, Cap,” he called as though nothing had 
happened. 

Danny felt a load taken from his mind. “Look 
at Jerry’s arm, will you, Marty?” he asked. 

It was a good play. It did much to convince 
the squad that this talk of trouble about Jerome 
had been colored too strongly. Would Danny 
ask Marty to look at Jerry’s arm if the coach was 
opposed to the pitcher? 

But Jerome — high-strung, sensitive Jerome — 
could not regain his poise as quickly as the others. 
He went out to the field, after Marty had gently 
massaged his muscles, with his nerves far from 
steady. He warmed up with Dutton, and several 
times the catcher had to stretch to prevent the 
ball going past him. The stands murmured at 
this display of wildness, and the sound came to 
the boy’s ears. He saw Marty leaning out from 
the bench and watching him. 

Danny, conscious that the coach’s stare was 


1 12 


JEROME GETS A CHANCE 


doing damage, waved all the pitchers to the bench. 
Marty strolled out to him. 

“They didn’t have much warm-up, Cap.” 

Danny mumbled a reply. Marty went back to 
the bench with the air of a martyr resigned to his 
fate. Here, he thought, was a kid with absolute 
power and yet he didn’t know the importance of 
a proper warm-up for a pitcher. The coach sat 
down beside Jerome. 

“How’s the arm? Limber?” 

“Y — yes, sir,” the pitcher answered. 

“I was watching you out there. That out- 
curve goes out too far. Never mind any fancy 
pitching. You just lay the ball over.” 

“He’s afraid I’m wild,” thought the unstrung 
boy. “He thinks I’ll go up in the air. He wants 
me to pitch so they’ll hit me. He’s relying on the 
fielders. He has no confidence in me. Of course 
that’s what he and Danny must have had a fight 
about. He didn’t want me to ” 

And then the bell rang for the start of the 
game. 

Danny’s information had been right. Mt. 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Merry was easy, and the Green and White ham- 
mered out twelve runs. But poor Jerome had a 
nightmare of an afternoon, and the enemy scored 
eight times. Four of these runs were the results 
of bases on balls, and another tally came in on a 
wild pitch. Mt. Merry’s batters waited him out 
inning after inning, and the end of the game found 
the pitcher tired and weary and disgusted. 

When the last man was out the squad trotted 
to the locker room. It did not romp with the 
joy that victory generally brings. Marty Black 
closed his score book and stared after the fellows. 
Next he glanced at Danny. 

“Well, Cap,” he asked mildly, “wouldn’t it have 
been just as well to have used King?” 

The captain did not answer. How could any 
pitcher, he wondered, have done good work under 
the circumstances? 


CHAPTER VI 


ANOTHER SETBACK 

T HERE wasn’t much talking in the locker 
room while the fellows dressed. Jerome 
held away from all but Cross, his room- 
mate. Danny, hurrying into his clothes, got away 
from the place as soon as he could. He didn’t 
feel that he wanted any supper. He walked out 
into the country until the twilight came, and 
then he tramped back. It was quite dark 
when he crossed the Yard and went to his 
room. 

Dutton, who was studying, glanced sharply at 
the captain. “Have any supper?” he asked. 
Danny shook his head. 

“Hungry?” 

“No.” 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Dutton tossed aside a book. “I don’t blame 
you. The fellows are knocking Jerome.” 

“What are they saying?” 

“That it’s the same old story of no control, and 
that every game he pitches will be in danger. And 
— and there’s talk again that you and Marty did 
have a row about Jerome, and some of the fellows 
feel — feel — Oh, I’d like to punch their heads.” 

“How do they feel?” Danny demanded. 

“They think that Marty was right and you 
were wrong.” 

The catcher expected his roommate to sulk. 
But Danny dropped into a chair and grinned 
cheerfully. 

“Dut,” he said, “that’s great news. If they 
think Marty is right, why they’ll pull in with him 
better than ever. This is the best thing that has 
happened in a month.” 

“But when they think you don’t know anything 
about the game, what then?” Dutton cried in 
alarm. 

“Oh, they don’t think I know nothing. They 
think Marty knows more than I do — and he does, 
116 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


too. Anyway, what difference does it make what 
they think about me if they’ll come through with 
a good season and trounce Monroe?” 

Dutton shook his head. “I couldn’t be as easy 
as that,” he muttered. 

However, if Danny was delighted with the way 
the squad felt toward Marty, he was far from 
pleased with the feeling toward Jerome. He knew 
that the Mt. Merry game had absolutely con- 
vinced the coach that the boy was hopeless. He 
knew that the squad thought that Jerry was weak. 
Yet deep in his mind was the conviction that Jerry 
could be moulded. Why, Mt. Merry had only 
secured four hits. It was passes and a wild pitch 
that had done the business. If control everocame 
to Jerry there would be nothing to the games he 
pitched but victory. 

Sunday afternoon Danny went boldly to Mar- 
ty’s lodgings. He said bluntly that he had not 
lost faith in Jerome. He pointed out the four 
hits. 

“How can you hit a pitcher who doesn’t put 
them over the plate?” the coach asked. 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Danny brushed the argument aside. What he 
wanted was somebody to take Jerry in hand and 
coach him — not as King and Steele were drilled, 
but with a deeper, steadier, more watchful super- 
vision. 

“Will you take him in hand, Marty?” the boy 
asked. 

“Anything you say, Cap,” Marty answered. 
His tone showed that he had little faith in the 
plan, and that he would take Jerome because he 
had been asked to, and for no other reason. 
Danny was quite sure that there would be none of 
that magnetic quality of sympathy in the coaching 
that came to the young pitcher. 

For four days Marty spent an hour each after- 
noon with Jerome. He took him away off to the 
outfield and there tried to give him some idea of 
control. At the end of that time Danny, who 
had purposely remained away from these sessions, 
walked out to see the result. If Jerome was no 
better he was half inclined to try to coach the 
pitcher himself. 

The captain stood behind Marty. The coach 
118 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


held his glove as a target and signalled for the 
kind of ball he wanted. Jerome threw. 

“Ball one,” Marty droned. 

Again Jerome pitched. 

“Ball two.” Marty straightened up wearily. 

Danny could see that Jerome was flustered, and 
was throwing wildly. Holding the ball, Marty 
walked down a few steps. 

“You’re in the hole now, Jerry,” he said. 
“When you’re in the hole with two balls and no 
strikes, don’t put it over right in the middle and 
waist high. That’s just what the batter is wait- 
ing for. He’ll knock the cover off the ball. Give 
him an ‘in’ across the shoulder or a high ‘out’ that 
he’ll reach for. Now we’ll start again. Give me 
that high ‘in.’ ” 

Jerome pitched, and the ball came waist high 
over the center of the plate. 

“There it goes,” said Marty, “for a three- 
bagger. Any batter would kill that. Can’t you 
give me a high ‘in’? Try again.” 

Jerome kept trying, and all the while his con- 
trol grew worse. At last Danny turned away and 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


walked back toward the infield. That evening 
Marty said to him: 

“You were out there to-day, Cap. You see how 
it is yourself. If control was worth a million 
dollars an ounce, that fellow couldn’t sell five 
cents’ worth.” 

“Suppose — suppose I try him for a while?” 
Danny asked. He did not want Marty to think 
that he was finding fault. To his relief the coach 
told him to go ahead. Marty had the appearance 
of a man getting away from a job that he was 
glad to see the last of. 

Next day Danny came from the locker room 
behind Jerome. He fell into step beside the 
pitcher and walked with him to the outfield. He 
pulled on a big mitt. 

“Now, Jerry,” he said briskly, “I’m going to 
catch you, and we’ll get this thing right.” 

“It’s no use,” Jerome faltered. “I can’t get 
them over.” 

“You don’t try.” 

“Don’t try? I’ve tried until I don’t know how 
to try any more.” 


120 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


“Look here, now,” Danny said gently, “let’s 
get this straightened out. Doesn’t it seem to you 
as though you can put that ball where you want 
it to go?” 

Jerome shook his head. “I’m pitching worse 
now than I was in the cage. I don’t feel that I 
have anything, either.” 

“That’s because you’re discouraged.” 

“Who wouldn’t be discouraged?” the boy 
blurted. “Some of the fellows are saying ” 

“Never mind what anybody says,” Danny 
soothed. “We’ll cut out this pitching for the rest 
of the week. You just loaf. Don’t even come 
to the field unless you feel like coming. Take a 
rest. Next Monday you and I will start in with 
a new deal. We’ll see if we can’t get that ball 
over, Jerry.” 

“Maybe I could if you’ d catch me,” said Je- 
rome. He went back to the dressing-room feeling 
less discouraged. 

As for Danny, his freckled fists itched to let 
fly at somebody’s jaw. He had begged the boys 
to do no knocking, and here they were pounding 

121 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


mercilessly. Common sense told him that he 
would only make matters worse if he fought with 
them. Yet he itched to make things warm for 
the gossips. 

Saturday came the second game, and Seward 
School was Manor Hall’s opponent. King was 
sent in to pitch, and he won by a score of 9 to 3. 
Seward had a small, light nine, and King’s burly 
speed kept her players away from the plate. 
Marty, on the bench, delighted in King’s showing. 
On the way back to the locker room he said to 
Danny: 

“Pick the right pitchers, Cap, and you’ll seldom 
be in trouble. Now, this King did some fine 
pitching to-day, and he had that team buffaloed. 
He gave one base on balls.” 

It was oa the tip of Danny’s tongue to point 
out that King had been peppered for seven hits, 
but he held his peace. What was the use of re- 
plying to what was plainly a hit at Jerome? 
He’d take Jerry in hand Monday, and per- 
haps he’d be able to do what had baffled the 
coach. If he failed — Well, it wouldn’t be be- 


122 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


cause he didn’t have the right spirit for the 
task. 

Over Sunday Danny tried to reason out what 
to do. He proved to his own satisfaction that a 
pitcher trying to put the ball over the plate has 
a tendency to over-aim. As Danny saw it, at the 
moment of delivery the pitcher checked his arm 
swing and tried to aim with his fingers. This 
last-second motion tended to bring the ball lower 
than the point at which it was originally aimed. 

This, to Danny’s mind, accounted for the fact 
that Jerome, called on by Marty for a shoulder 
ball, almost always sent the leather around the 
waist. Then, too, aiming an in-shoot with the 
fingers at the last moment just as the ball was leav- 
ing one’s hand generally carried the ball too far 
in. 

Furthermore, Danny felt that the shoulder 
ball, despite its popularity among pitchers, was a 
bad ball to serve, particularly if it came on the 
inside. Such balls, he reasoned, are generally 
frowned on by the umpires, so that the chances 
of having a shoulder ball called a strike were slim. 


123 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Why, then, coach Jerome to pitch such a delivery? 
What was the use of it? 

Why not, if Jerry used that last-second finger 
aim, call for a waist ball? Jerry, aiming for the 
waist, would get the ball across right above the 
knees. This would be a hard ball to hit, and if 
the batter did not offer at it, it would be called a 
strike. 

So, when Monday afternoon came, Danny went 
forth with a plan that was altogether different 
from that which Marty had used. That day he 
worked with Jerome on straight balls and held 
his glove as a target. 

“See,” said the pitcher, “I always get the ball 
in lower than the mitt.” 

Danny explained to him the principle of over- 
aiming. 

“Do I do that?” the pitcher asked; “do I over- 
aim?” 

Danny nodded. “I think so.” 

“I’ll watch that then,” said the boy. 

“Oh, hold on there,” Danny cried. “I don’t 
want you to change your style. You’d have to 


124 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


start all over again if you did that. We’ll stick 
to the system you have.” 

“That’s what I mean,” said Jerome. “I want 
to watch how it works.” 

Danny held the glove up. The pitcher shot at 
an imaginary mark far above the glove. And the 
ball plunked into the hollow of the mitt. Jerome’s 
eyes opened. 

“That’s right,” he called to Danny. “It worked 
that time.” 

For an hour they experimented. At the end 
Jerry was delighted. Here, he thought, was con- 
trol about to come to him at last. His face was 
so radiant when he came to the locker room that 
Dutton pulled Danny aside. 

“What’s the good news with Jerry?” he whis- 
pered. 

“We’re working on a new system,” Danny said, 
“and it looks as though he’s going to get all kinds 
of control.” 

Dutton carried the news to Cross. The first- 
baseman made it his business to walk to the Yard 
with the captain. 


125 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Who’s idea was this?” he asked. “Yours or 
Marty’s?” 

“Both,” Danny said instantly. 

Next day Jerome began to use his curves. And 
the ball, now that he used Danny’s system, began 
to go very nearly where it was expected to go. 
He began to get confidence in himself. Danny 
went forward a lesson in his course of pitching. 

“Never mind pitching for the shoulder, Jerry,” 
he said, “when you find yourself in a hole. Start 
that ball for the waist ” 

“But Marty told me to pop for the shoulder 
in a pinch,” Jerome stammered. 

Danny smiled. “Marty and I have talked this 
over. You start that ball for the waist. You’ll 
bring it in above the knees.” 

“Why,” said the pitcher, “that’s a tough ball 
to hit, above the knees.” 

“Sure it is,” said Danny. “Try it, now.” 

Jerome tried. After a while Danny began to 
call strikes and balls. But this time being in the 
hole didn’t scare the pitcher. He plunked that 
ball above the knees, and generally he got his 


126 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


strike. He began to walk about the field as though 
he were really a life and blood member of the 
nine, and not as though he were dead weight. 

The third game was with Claussen Academy, 
and was to be played away from home. Friday 
afternoon Danny sent Jerome in to pitch against 
the ’Varsity. 

“Never mind your curves, Jerry,” he said. 
“Keep your eye on control.” 

As a result, Jerome was hit freely. After the 
practice Marty said: 

“I thought they couldn’t hit him, Cap?” 

“He’s after control now,” said Danny. 
“Weren’t many bad balls to-day, were there?” 

“He’s always just about one thing shy, isn’t 
he?” Marty asked good-naturedly. “This fel- 
low’s fooling you, Cap.” 

Next day the team went to Claussen field by 
trolley car. Steele had a feeling that this was his 
day, so he was sent to the mound. He was in 
trouble almost every inning, but he managed to 
weather every storm. The end of the game found 
him an 1 1 to 5 winner. Manor Hall had hit sav- 


127 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


agely, and Captain Danny’s big black bat had had 
a generous hand in the slaughter. Steele laughed 
lightly while he dressed. 

“I told you this was my day,” he said. “Why, 
they could have hit me two or three times an inn- 
ing and we’d have won just the same.” 

Danny sighed. Why didn’t Jerome have con- 
fidence like that? 

The next game was to be played Wednesday 
against Creskill Academy. It was an at-home 
game. Thus far all three of Manor Hall’s 
pitchers had worked in turn. Who would get the 
next assignment? The fellows hoped secretly that 
it would not be Jerome. They had scant faith 
in Jerry. 

Monday and Tuesday Danny worked hard with 
the pitcher. Tuesday afternoon the captain called 
for curve balls, and Jerry broke iseven pitches in 
a row across the rubber. Danny took off his glove 
and tossed it into the air. 

“That’s the candy,” he cried. He called the 
pitcher to him. “How would you like to work 
to-morrow, Jerry?” 


128 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


The boy swallowed hard. “Do you think that 
— that I’m steady enough?’* 

“Of course you are. Don’t you feel confident?” 

“I feel as though I can hold my own,” said 
Jerome. 

Later in the afternoon Marty came to Danny. 
“Who pitches to-morrow, Cap?” 

Danny looked up at him. “Have you any 
choice?” 

“You’re the boss, Cap. You’ve been handling 
Jerome. I don’t know how he is now.” 

“He’s good,” said Danny. “I’ll take a chance 
with him.” 

Marty nodded. “Jerome it is then. But — this 
Creskill has a pretty good record.” 

“They won’t have after to-morrow,” said the 
captain. 

In his room, when he got back to the dormitory 
building, he found this telegram: 

Home ten o’clock Wednesday morning. Meet 
us Westbrook station. Hope you have no 
game scheduled. 

DAD 


129 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


But there was a game scheduled, and Jerome 
was slated to pitch it. The captain ran the mes- 
sage through his fingers. 

If he went away Marty would be in absolute 
command of the nine, and with Jerome working — 
Danny shook his head. He mustn’t think that. 
Marty would give the pitcher loyal support. 
To-morrow would be a real game, not practice. 
Any way, he wouldn’t let ten ball games keep 
him from welcoming his father and mother 
home. 

He took the telegram to the school office and 
secured permission to go home on the morrow. 
Thursday he would return. 

Dutton frowned ominously when he heard that 
Danny would not be in the Creskill game. 

“How about Jerome?” he asked bluntly. 

“What about Jerome?” the captain demanded 
as though here was some unknown question. 
“He’s been picked to pitch, hasn’t he?” 

“Sure.” 

“Well, what then?” 

“Nothing,” said Dutton. He drummed on the 


130 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


study table. “He might not feel right if you’re 
not around.” 

Danny forced a laugh. “Nonsense. He has 
his control now, hasn’t he? Why shouldn’t he 
feel right?” 

Dutton said nothing more. Later Jerome 
learned that the captain would not be behind him 
when he went in. He looked frightened at this, 
but instantly pulled himself together. He had 
been putting the ball over in practice, and he’d 
put it over in the game. 

“Your nerve’s coming back,” grinned Cross, his 
roommate. 

“Oh,” said Jerome, “I feel now as though I 
have something on the ball.” 

At breakfast next morning Cross told Danny 
what the pitcher had said. 

“Of course he has something,” the captain cried 
stoutly. “He’ll win his game easily.” 

“You’ve done a lot for him,” Cross whispered. 

“He’ll do a lot for the nine,” Danny answered. 

After breakfast he saw Marty and told him 
that he was going home on the eight o’clock train. 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“All right, Cap,” said Marty. “We’ll have a 
victory to report when you come back.” 

Danny laughed. “Of course you will. And, 
Marty, see that Jerry gets every chance, will 
you?” 

“Certainly.” 

“I’ve been working hard with him, Marty, and 

if ” 

“We’ll take care of him,” the coach broke in. 
“You just leave it to me, Cap.” 

So Danny went home with an easy mind. He 
welcomed his father and his mother with boister- 
ous joy. They had many trinkets for him that 
he could take back to school and put up in his 
room — raw cotton blossoms, for instance, and a 
small stuffed alligator. 

“You never forget me, do you?” he asked. His 
father laughed, and his mother pinched his cheek. 

Next day he started back for school. Classes 
were in session when he reached Manor Hall. 
He waited in his room for the noon recess. 

His back was turned to the door when Dutton 
entered the quarters with some books under his 


132 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


arm. The catcher dropped the volumes with a 
bang. 

“We won the game,” he said briefly. 

Danny grinned. “Good! What was the 
score?” 

“Six to two.” 

“Only two runs? Did Jerry pitch as well as 
that?” 

“He was taken out in the seventh inning,” said 
Dutton. 

The captain’s mouth opened. “What for?” 

“Passing men.” 

“Passing — Look here, Dut. What was the 
score when he was yanked?” 

“Five to two.” 

“How many were out?” 

“One.” 

“How many on base?” 

“Two.” 

“And with a three-run lead he was taken out?” 

“Yes.” 

“But ” 

“Oh, what’s the use of talking this way?” Dut- 


i33 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


ton cried. “Marty said he was going up. He 
wasn’t, Danny. The first man he passed he had 
struck out earlier on curves. He tried curves 
again, but the fellow didn’t bite, and Jerry 
couldn’t get out of the hole. The second fellow 
he passed trying to pitch high and stop a bunt. 
Then Marty pulled him. He wasn’t gone, 
Danny. He was steady and sure of himself. He 
had his nerve. I could tell by the way the ball 
came to me.” 

“Perhaps,” said Danny weakly, “he might have 
been going and you didn’t see it.” 

“Going nothing,” Dutton retorted angrily. “I 
know him like a book.” 

“How — how did he take it?” 

“How would you take it,” the catcher de- 
manded, “if you were going good and they handed 
it to you?” 

Danny walked to the window and looked out.' 
After a while he spoke without turning his head: 

“Who went in when Jerry came out?” 

“King,” said Dutton. 

Danny shook his head. Something told him 


134 


ANOTHER SETBACK 


that Marty had really thought the pitcher was 
going up, and something told him that he would 
have to start to work with Jerome all over again. 
He ran his hands feverishly through his red hair. 
It wasn’t a muddy red; it was a good, honest, hot- 
tempered red. 

And slowly, as the captain stood there, the hot 
fire of stubborn resolution ran through his blood. 
He had brought Jerome around once. He had 
sent him out to pitch, and he had pitched. Well, 
he’d bring him back again. And next time, the 
person who robbed the boy of his courage would 
know that something had broken loose. 


CHAPTER VII 

UNWELCOME PRAISE 

D ANNY went down to dinner with a grin 
on his freckled face. He wasn’t going 
to let the school see that there was a 
thing in the world wrong. The fellows asked 
him what he thought of that 6 to 2 victory, and 
he said the victory was fine. One or two of the 
boys observed that Marty Black had showed some 
fine judgment in pulling out Jerome just as he 
started to wobble, because Jerry was always sure 
to have one bad inning. They looked keenly at 
Danny as they said this, but Danny refused to be 
trapped. He smiled and announced that Marty 
understood baseball and that this should be a fine 
day for practice. 

After classes that afternoon he hurried to the 
136 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


locker room. He didn’t want to have Cross com- 
ing to him with grumbles and complaints, so he 
dressed and departed for the field before the first- 
baseman arrived. Later Marty came out and 
waved him a good-natured greeting. They sat 
on the bench with the deserted field ahead of them. 

“It was some game, Cap,” said the coach. 
“This boy Baggs can surely hit them on the nose. 
He drove in four runs and scored one himself.” 

“Baggs is good,” said Danny. He dug the spikes 
of one foot into the dirt. “How was Jerome?” 

“He was pretty good. Of course, these wild 
birds generally have one good blow-up to the 
game. So when he passed two in a row I thought 
his time had come.” 

“With a three-run lead?” the captain asked. 

“The players were getting nervous, Cap. Any- 
body could see they were thinking, ‘Here goes this 
old ball game.’ I was afraid that a couple of 
hits would go through them. Then where would 
we have been?” 

Here was a new worry. Were the ’Varsity 
players so apprehensive behind Jerome that the 


137 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


feeling hurt their play? Why, if that were the 
case, the squad would applaud Marty for yanking 
Jerome, and in time the pitcher would come to see 
that neither the coach nor the players had con- 
fidence in him. 

“This wasn’t an important game,” Danny said 
slowly. “Wouldn’t it have been just as well to 
have allowed Jerome to fight his way out?” 

“Cap,” Marty said earnestly, “this nine is just 
hitting its stride. It hasn’t lost a game. A de- 
feat yesterday would have thrown it back. We 
must think of these things.” 

“Of course,” said Danny. Yet he could not 
help feeling that if it was worth while to coddle 
the nine, it might not harm to coddle Jerome a 
bit. Perhaps a defeat would not have thrown 
the nine back. Anyway, Jerome had been more 
than thrown back. He had been routed. 

The fellows began to come out on the field. 
Marty stood up. 

“What’s the program to-day?” he asked. 

“Anything you think they need,” said Danny. 
“I’ll take Jerome a while.” 


138 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


Marty’s eyes opened, but he said nothing. 

The captain went forward until he met the 
hurler. He ran his arm through the pitcher’s and 
led him off to the place where they had their daily 
sessions. 

“How’s things?” the captain asked. 

“All right,” Jerome answered. But his face 
showed distress, and Danny knew it would do no 
good to pretend that all was well. 

“Up in the air because Marty took you out?” 
he asked. 

The pitcher nodded. 

“Now look here,” said Danny; “let’s get this 
thing straight. You weren’t wild, were you?” 

“I didn’t feel wild. I was always sure that I 
could pull through.” 

“Then you passed two men. You had a repu- 
tation for wildness, Jerry.” 

“I know that.” 

“So that Marty got scary and took no chances. 
But the big point is this: Next time you go in 
everybody will say, ‘He did pretty good in his last 
game.’ And you’ll be pretty good in the next, 


139 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


and soon everybody will forget that you were 
ever wild. What Marty did doesn’t matter, 
so long as you know you can go in there and 
pitch.” 

“But it takes the heart out of you,” cried Je- 
rome. “You work, and work, and work. After 
a while somebody comes along with a new system 
and you begin to get control. Then you go in for 
a game. You pitch the best — Honest, Danny, 
it was the best game I ever worked. When I saw 
King come out to relieve me I thought it was a 
joke. I wasn’t gone. It takes your heart away. 
You ask yourself ‘what’s the use?’ ” 

“Lots of use,” Danny cried briskly. “The big 
trouble with you, Jerry, is — Oh, you know what 
I mean. You’re too easily hurt. Your hide isn’t 
thick enough. You had control yesterday. You 
still have that control, haven’t you?” 

“I— I don’t know.” 

“Well, we’ll soon find out. Get off there and 
pitch to me.” 

The boy obeyed instructions. Yes, he still had 
his control. 


140 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


“There!” cried Danny, some time later. 
“Didn’t I tell you you’d be there?” 

“It’s still there,” Jerome answered without 
much spirit. “But I guess it’s mechanical. I 
don’t feel right inside.” 

Plainly he was much cast down. However, 
Danny went back to the infield practice, feeling 
much encouraged. Jerry had not lost the knack 
of sticking the ball over. His courage would come 
back by degrees. 

Saturday the nine played Lincoln School. Fri- 
day night King banged up one of his fingers. To 
use him was out of the question. So Steele was 
sent in to pitch the game. Lincoln wasn’t any too 
strong, but to-day Steele was not chock-a-block 
with confidence. Several times during the game 
he wavered, and Lincoln left the field victors by 
a score of 7 to 2. It was Manor Hall’s first de- 
feat of the season. 

“Can’t win all the time,” Marty said philo- 
sophically. 

The loss of the game, Danny was glad to see, 
did not discourage the boys. Monday they came 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


back to the practice with dash and pepper — and 
Monday Danny again took Jerome in hand. 

Jerry didn’t talk about not having heart to-day. 
He worked his spell, came in for some batting 
practice, and after that scampered for the locker 
room. 

“He’ll be all right,” Danny told Dutton. “I 
won’t need him for the next game — King will 
probably work that.” 

The catcher gingerly felt one hand. “That boy 
King has some speed,” he said. “If he only knew 
how to use his noodle ” 

“No knocking,” said Danny. “He’s a good 
pitcher. Anyway, he beat Seward 9 to 3 the first 
time, and he ought to repeat.” 

The nine traveled to play Seward the second 
time, and won by a score of 10 to 2. On the way 
home Marty sat alongside Danny. 

“That boy King has some whip,” he said wisely. 

Creskill was next on the schedule. Following 
the Seward game, Jerome began to work with 
grim determination. Steele and King had both 
pitched, so he was due for a turn. Anyhow, he 


142 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


had held Creskill to two runs in seven innings, 
and he felt he would be sent back for another 
crack. But Steele was picked, and the night be- 
fore the Creskill game Jerome sat in his room, 
the most discouraged boy in Manor Hall. 

Danny had really meant to use him. The grim 
spirit that Jerry had shown had been responsible 
for the change. The captain was afraid that the 
pitcher would go into the contest too highly 
strung. He would carry in a load of worry and 
a fear of failure. Under these circumstances, 
should he fail, it would be almost impossible to 
pull him together that season. 

Then, too, Marty Black had hinted broadly 
that if Jerome had held Creskill to two runs, 
Steele would do better, for wasn’t Steele the bet- 
ter pitcher? To these arguments Danny made 
no reply. He said thoughtfully that Steele would 
work, and Marty grinned and cried: 

“Now, Cap, you’re getting to a point where we 
can do lots of business.” 

Against Creskill Steele showed a really good 
game. He was tight in the pinches, and he breezed 


i43 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


along with a gallant show of confidence. The re- 
sult was that Creskill lost, 8 to o, and Manor Hall 
had her first shutout. 

“Didn’t I tell you he’d do better than Jerome?” 
Marty asked Danny. 

“Why do you always drag Jerry in?” the cap- 
tain asked. 

“Why?” asked Marty in surprise; “why, I want 
to show you that this bird has you hypnotized.” 

A game with Meade Academy was next on the 
schedule. Meade had a team of sluggers. She 
had been piling up io and 12 and 14 runs to the 
game. She would be the toughest proposition 
that the Green and White had yet faced. 

Marty, without consulting Danny, began to 
groom King for this game. He thought that his 
logic had brought about the selection of Steele 
against Creskill, and he saw no reason why King 
should not work the next. Who else was there 
to use? 

But Danny, once the Creskill game was past, 
started off with Jerome again. This time he 
worked with painstaking care. 


144 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


“Take your time,” he kept calling. “Don’t 
hurry, Jerry. Put that ball just where you want 
it. That’s the boy. That’s shooting them. Take 
your time.” 

He wanted to have Jerry right to the dot. But 
though the pitcher showed a rare control, he 
worked with a total lack of warmth. Danny 
stopped the practice. 

“What’s wrong, Jerry?” he asked. “Feel all 
right?” 

“Oh, I’m all right,” said Jerome. He pulled 
off his glove and put it on again. “I thought I’d 
pitch against Creskill,” he said slowly. 

Oh, so that was it. Ordinarily Danny had no 
use for the fellow who got sore because he wasn’t 
played. Here, though, was a different situation. 
Jerry thought he had been kept on the bench be- 
cause of his old fault, control. 

Danny had not intended to reveal his plan for 
the Meade game. Now he saw that only by 
speaking could he keep Jerome from passing sev- 
eral discouraged days. 

“You told me I was getting better,” the pitcher 


145 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


continued “and I thought I saw an improvement, 
too.” 

“You have improved.” 

“Then why wasn’t I — Oh, I don’t mean that, 
Danny. You’ll think I’m kicking.” 

“I won’t,” said Danny. He asked abruptly: 
“What do you think of Meade?” 

The pitcher shook his head. “Everybody says 
that nine can slam the ball like sixty.” 

“Think you can stop them?” 

Slowly the pitcher lifted his eyes. “You mean 
— you mean you’re going to use me in that game?” 

“That’s what I mean.” 

Jerome spat in his glove. “Give me another 
fifteen minutes, Danny,” he pleaded. “I want to 
try my crossfire.” 

He ran out to his pitching distance. There 
was a sparkle in his eye. He wasn’t the same boy 
at all. And fifteen minutes later, after he had 
clipped the plate again and again, he ran off gayly 
to the showers. In some strange fashion confi- 
dence had come to him. 

The squad received the news that Jerome would 
146 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


pitch with secret shakings of the head. Marty 
Black was dumfounded. 

“Have you. been watching King?” he demanded. 

“Yes,” said Danny. 

“And you’re set on shooting Jerome at them?” 

“Yes.” 

“All right, Cap,” said Marty; “it’s your 
funeral.” 

King made no comments. If he was disap- 
pointed, he was too much of a little gentleman 
to show his feelings. Danny, after watching King, 
crossed the Yard from the field with the thought 
that it was good to be a Manor Hall fellow. 

There was a feeling in school that here was a 
game that would really try the nine. There was 
a thought in the mind of almost every student that 
in picking Jerome, Danny was riding for a fall. 
However, there was no open criticism. But 
Jerome was not fooled. 

“I’m glad the school thinks I’ll fail,” he told 
Cross. 

The first-baseman bristled. “Who told you 
you’d fail?” 


147 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Oh, nobody said so, but I know some of the 
fellows think it. If everybody thought I’d win, 
I’d go in afraid I wouldn’t. This way I’m not 
worried. If I lose they can only say that Meade 
was strong. I’m satisfied.” 

So was Cross, seeing that his roommate was 
not worrying. 

The Meade game has gone down into Manor 
Hall history. For some reason the infield went 
to pieces, and Meade scored three runs in the first 
two innings. Not a hit had been made off Jerome, 
not a base on balls had he given. Yet those three 
runs glared from the score-board. It was a dis- 
couraging start. 

But the boy did not falter. In the third inning 
the first batter singled for Meade’s first clean 
hit. The ball got away from Baggs and the 
runner went all the way to third. Here, said 
the wise ones, Jerome goes up. But Jerry, 
with feverish grimness, stayed with his guns. 
He struck out the next boy, and the following 
batters popped easy flies to Cross. Jerome 
came in to the bench, and though the score was 


148 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


3 to o against him, the stands stood up to cheer. 

“Nice work,” Danny whispered. 

“That’s pitching, young fellow,” said Marty. 

Fighting spirit came to the nine, and in the 
fourth inning a run came over. Another was 
scored in the seventh and still another in the 
eighth. The ninth inning began with the score 
tied, for Jerome had been going along smoothly. 

But in the first half of the ninth he had a mo- 
mentary attack of his old enemy, wildness. He 
passed the first two boys. The coaches began to 
yell, “He’s going up!” and it did look that way. 
Marty wig-wagged from the bench that it was 
time to put in King. Danny signalled back that 
Jerome would stay. If the pitcher was to be 
yanked out every time he got in trouble he’d 
never have heart. 

Danny walked in to the mound. “Take it easy, 
Jerry. You’re all right. Nobody’s going to take 
you out to-day. Don’t get worrying. This is your 
game from start to finish.” 

“The ball isn’t working right,” Jerome said 
nervously. 


149 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“It will be in a moment. See that fellow up 
there? He’s anxious to hit. Give him a high 
fast one.” 

Jerry had control enough to throw the ball as 
directed. Danny had read the batter right. He 
swung at the ball and lifted a high foul that Dut- 
ton caught. 

“One down,” cried Cross. “It’s all yours, Jerry.” 

That out brought back the pitcher’s nerve. A 
moment later the two Meade runners tried a 
double steal, and Talmage, at third, made brilliant 
work of Dutton’s throw to that corner. 

“Out!” said the umpire. 

So there were two down and a man on second. 
The infield moved far back. And the next boy 
lifted a fly that Baggs caught after a hard run. 
Manor Hall did not score in the ninth. The 
tenth inning started. Marty thought that it was 
a case of which pitcher would crack first. He 
whispered in Danny’s ear that it might be wise to 
shift to King. 

“Could King do any better than Jerry’s doing?” 
Danny asked. 


150 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


“But that bird is due for a flight, Cap. See 
last inning. He passed two and ” 

“But they didn’t score.” 

“Luck. Dutton’s throw to third probably saved 
him. He’ll pass half a dozen men next inning.” 

“Give him a chance,” said Danny. He was 
quite sure that after pulling through the ninth 
Jerry would have a carload of nerve. Nor was 
he mistaken. The pitcher put Meade away in 
one-two-three order. Manor Hall came in for its 
tenth inning. 

Baggs was first to bat — and the game ended 
right there. Baggs caught the second ball pitched 
on the trade-mark. It sailed away toward the 
outfield. Marty squinted at it a moment. He 
stood up and gathered the sweaters. 

“Good night,” he said. “Game’s over.” He 
did not look back to see where the ball would fall. 

But Jerome, to whom this hit meant much, 
watched it with open mouth. He saw it hit far 
over the center-fielder’s head and then bounce 
away, away, away — Jerome sat down with a 


grin. 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“That’s the sweetest home run I ever saw,” he 
announced. 

The victory sent a wild wave of enthusiasm 
through the school. Jerome tasted the cup of 
popularity, and found the taste good. But Marty 
Black, with the score-book in his hand, warned 
Danny of the future. 

“Don’t put too much faith in this bird, Cap,” 
he advised. “One game doesn’t make a pitcher. 
Look here, he gave five bases on balls. Now if 
those bases had come about the time a few hits 
were turned loose ” 

“But they didn’t,” said Danny. “Anybody 
could see to-day that he was. a different pitcher. He 
used to give passes and then wilt. Now if he gives 
a pass he sticks to the ship and fights things out.” 

“All right, Cap,” said Marty. “I’ve done my 
duty. I’ve warned you.” Privately he thought 
Danny was a mighty stubborn youngster. 

The joyous uproar that followed the game did 
not please Danny in the least. Thus far his nine 
had gone along with nobody saying much about 
it. The boy was satisfied to have things so. He 


152 



“ Baggs was first to bat ” 






UNWELCOME PRAISE 


didn’t want the fellows coming around and con- 
vincing his players that they were unbeatable. He 
knew that an over-confident team quickly stagnates. 

But Marty was glad to hear the praise. In 
fact, the coach helped it along. A confident team, 
he said, was a team with lots of pepper and dash, 
a team with lots of get-up-and-get. He announced 
that he could name two big league managers who 
had gone through to success because they had con- 
vinced second-rate teams that they were unbeatable. 

Danny, however, thought that there was a vast 
difference between a big league team and a team 
of schoolboys. He went over to Marty’s lodgings 
to plead with the coach to pretend that the nine 
wasn’t doing any too well, and while he was there 
Keating, the editor of The Greenie , came in on 
them. 

“The nine’s been going fine, hasn’t it?” he de- 
manded with enthusiasm. “I’m going to give the 
fellows a hangup notice and I thought I’d come 
over and get a few pointers.” 

“For the love of Mike, don’t do that,” Danny 
cried. 


153 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Keating gasped. “Don’t do what?” 

“Don’t praise the nine. You’ll have my boys 
all swelled up. You’ll spoil them. If you want 
to write anything, rap them a bit.” 

“Now, Cap,” Marty said soothingly. 

“I mean it,” Danny cried. “I don’t believe in 
praise until there’s something to praise about.” 

“But you’ve won — ” Keating began. 

“We haven’t won from Monroe yet,” said 
Danny. 

Marty smiled indulgently. “You’re shooting 
wild, Cap. You get a bunch feeling strong, and 
they can’t be beaten. I think Keating has the 
right dope.” 

“I want to show the nine that the school is be- 
hind it,” said Keating. 

“I don’t care whether the school is behind the 
nine or not,” Danny insisted. “I’d rather it 
wouldn’t be yet. The nine hasn’t done anything 
to justify any hip-hip-hurrahing. I want to keep 
them trying all the time. If they win a game and 
make seven hits, I want The Greenie to tell them 
that seven or eight hits are not enough. If they 


154 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


go through a game and make only one or two 
errors, say that they’d have made more had they 
tried for the hard chances. Rub it into them all 
you like; but don’t, if you want this nine to pull 
out, begin using the softsoap.” 

Marty Black gave a smile of amusement. 
“You have some queer ideas,” he observed. 

Keating looked from one to the other. Marty 
winked at him. That wink told the editor to go 
as far as he liked. Keating left, convinced that 
Marty, through his greater experience, knew what 
was best. 

So the next issue of The Greenie carried a story 
that burned red fire for the nine. Within twenty- 
four hours most of the squad began to strut. 
Danny felt like punching Keating’s head. Dutton 
scowled and said that he never before knew how 
many fools were on the nine. Dutton was one 
boy whose eyes were not blinded to true conditions. 

Within another day the practice began to tell 
a wobbly story. There was a general air of su- 
preme confidence, and with it came what almost 
always comes with such a condition, a woeful slack- 


155 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


ness and carelessness. The boys acted without 
seriousness. When a player made a wild throw 
or a muff, his attitude was one that said that he 
could have performed perfectly had it been neces- 
sary, but that this was only practice. 

Danny submitted to this for just one afternoon. 
Then, without consulting Marty, he called the 
squad together as it was about to start from the 
field for the locker room. 

“If you think you can learn to play baseball 
by making errors,” he began hotly, “you are 
mightily mistaken. It’s what you do every day 
and what you do here to-day that you’re going to 
do when you get into a big match. This thing of 
sloppy practice must stop. I want real work or 
I want no work at all.” 

The captain’s fists were clinched. His face was 
red with indignation. Yet he knew exactly what 
he was saying, and kept himself under control. 

“You outfielders must cover more ground,” he 
continued. “You must start with the crack of the 
bat for the place where the ball will fall. If you 
don’t get used to doing that in practice you won’t 


156 


UNWELCOME PRAISE 


do it in a real game. Can’t you see that, fellows?” 

“I can see it,” said Farrell, the right-fielder. 

Danny smiled at him. “You’re one of the fel- 
lows who hasn’t loafed, Farrell.” 

Farrell, his cheeks pink, withdrew into the back- 
ground. 

“Now, Talmage, I want a word with you. 
Ordinarily you cover a lot of ground. You’re on 
your toes all the time. But lately you’ve fallen 
off. You don’t cover short hits as you should, 
and it leaves too much for Lee to do at short. 
You must get a jump on. You’re slowing up.” 

Talmage said nothing. 

“Now, Cross,” the captain went on, “you must 
cover that bag better. You can’t be anchored to 
that bag when the ball is hit. You must take some 
of those that come along toward second base. 
You must put it up with me or I must put it up 
with you so that we don’t both go after the same 
hit. If we don’t do it in practice we’ll never do 
it in a game. 

“Finally, I want you out-fielders to throw that 
ball in to the plate once in a while. Don’t be 


157 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


afraid that you’ll hurt your arms. Throw the 
ball. Ordinarily we quit about this time, but not 
to-day. Let’s start all over again for half an 
hour and see if we can’t do better. Not the 
pitchers — they can go in. Now everybody work 
hard.” 

But they didn’t work hard. They thought that 
they were at their best and merely had to breeze 
along to keep right. That thought had taken too 
deep a root to be summarily destroyed. 

Danny walked off the field in disgust. -This was 
what came, he thought, from telling a bunch of 
schoolboys that they were the best in the land. 
He thought that it would be a pleasure to have 
all the pneumonia germs in the world in one place 
so that he could go after them with a club, for it 
was pneumonia that had laid Craig low. And 
out there half an hour ago, while he had lectured 
the fellows, Marty Black had squinted at the 
clouds and had said not a word to back him up. 


CHAPTER VIII 

A NOTE FROM CRAIG 

D ANNY was not the sort of boy to fold his 
hands in his lap and give up to despair. 
He knew deep down in his heart that the 
nine was heading straight for a tumble. His big 
hope was that the tumble would come soon, and 
that the boys would pull themselves together in 
time to make a stand against Monroe. 

That night he asked Dutton what the fellows 
thought of his speech on the field. The catcher 
shook his head. 

“There’s nothing to it, Danny,” he admitted. 
“They’re going to run headlong until they fall 
and break their necks. Keating has stuck in his 
oar and that hasn’t helped, either.” 

“What has he done?” Danny bristled. 


159 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Sit down,” said Dutton. “You can’t fight him 
without the whole school finding out. He said 
that you were against this confidence, and that 
Marty was in favor of it. Is that true?” 

Danny nodded. 

“Then good night to your ball team,” said the 
catcher. 

Danny walked back and forth across the room. 
Good night to his ball team? Good night noth- 
ing! He’d find a way out. 

“Baggs is talking, too,” said Dutton. 

At that Danny turned around suddenly. 
“Baggs?” he asked. 

Dutton nodded. “You and he are all right, 
aren’t you? I know the two of you had it out 
when you were a freshman, for I was your second 
in the fight. But I thought that was all over.” 

“It is all over,” Danny nodded. 

“Then why is Baggs saying that he thinks Mar- 
ty has the right dope and that you’re all wrong 
about confidence in the nine? 

“Maybe he thinks I’m wrong,” Danny an- 
swered. “Baggs has played fair with me for two 
160 


A NOTE FROM CRAIG 


years. He thinks I’m wrong, that’s all. Almost 
all the fellows think I’m wrong, don’t they?” 

“But they’re not going around talking ” 

“That’s Baggs’ way,” said Danny. “Don’t 
get the idea into your head that he’s against me. 
He isn’t. He just thinks I’m wrong and he speaks 
his mind.” 

“He’d be a whole lot more loyal if he kept his 
mouth shut,” the catcher grunted. 

Danny thought so, too. He had pleaded with 
the fellows for no knocking in the squad, and they 
had turned around and had used the hammers on 
Jerome. Now they were after him. Well, he’d 
sooner be the goat than have Jerry under fire. 
Before going to bed he vowed that he would have 
the nine playing snappy ball again if he had to 
bench some of the ’Varsity. 

But, despite his determination, the practice did 
not improve. On the third day, as he was on his 
way to the locker room, the captain met Keating. 
The editor had watched the work from the stands. 

“Didn’t they look fine to-day?” Danny cried 
indignantly. 

161 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“I thought they looked all right,” said Keat- 
ing. 

Danny stared at him. “How much do you 
really know about baseball, Keat?” 

“Not much.” 

“Yet you went over my head and praised ” 

“But Marty Black wanted me to do it,” Keat- 
ing said helpessly. “If a man who has played in 
the big leagues doesn’t know the game, who 
does?” 

Danny gave up the argument. After that he 
began to lose sleep. 

To the captain’s surprise, the nine won its sec- 
ond game from Mt. Merry. King was off his 
game, so much so that even Marty said that the 
burly pitcher would not do. So Steele was sent in. 
First they loaded him up with a raft of confidence 
by pointing out how Mt. Merry had fallen before 
Jerome at a time when Jerome had not been right. 
The result was that Steele pitched air-tight ball 
until the eighth inning. By that time the score 
was io to o. In the ninth he let down and Mt. 
Merry got two runs. The ease with which this 
162 


A NOTE FROM CRAIG 


victory was scored made the squad feel that 
Marty Black was right. Confidence was the thing, 
and what happened in practice didn’t count at all. 

Danny came out of that game with a healthy, 
raging grouch. Of course he had wanted Manor 
Hall to win, but he would have been delighted had 
the nine played sloppy, ragged ball. Then he 
would have had some peg on which to hang an 
argument for brisker work in the practice. As it 
was, the nine had romped along with spirit and 
dash. 

He was a wise enough little general to know 
that he had no chance now to talk to the players. 
All he could do was to wait for the crash to come. 

Marty grinned at him. “Well, Cap, what do 
you think of confidence now?” 

“What I thought of it before,” the captain an- 
swered. 

The coach looked surprised. “You mean you 
still think this bunch will hit a snag? Wake up! 
And let me tell you, Cap, if you start to worry 
them on the field it’s going to do harm.” 

“I won’t worry them,” said Danny. “ I’m 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


going to give them their head. When the crash 
comes I’ll have a few words to say. Until then 
I’m through talking.” 

Yet it almost set the captain’s fighting blood to 
boiling to watch the careless way the work ran on. 
Lincoln School had beaten the nine once with 
Steele pitching, and he had a feeling that Lincoln 
would turn the trick again. But when the teams 
clashed King pitched one of his few really good 
games. Lincoln was helpless, and the Green and 
White took ample revenge for that 7 to 2 defeat. 
Two Lincoln pitchers were hammered from the 
box and the third was kept in only because the 
game was hopelessly lost. King allowed but five 
hits. 

The game had been played away from home. 
The squad, with what students had accompanied 
it, journeyed home in glory. Keating sat beside 
Danny on the train. 

“The nine won again to-day,” he said. He 
looked frankly at the captain. “Aren't you wrong 
about confidence being a bad thing for the fel- 
lows, Danny?” 


164 


A NOTE FROM CRAIG 


“No,” said Danny shortly. 

“But here they walk all over Lincoln and ” 

“I know,” the captain cried in disgust. 
“They’re defying all the laws. But they’re only 
putting off the tumble. It’s going to come. Why, 
after to-day’s win we’ll be lucky if those fellows 
go after anything that doesn’t come right at their 
noses. There’s one big thing I’m afraid of now.” 

“What’s that?” Keating asked. 

“That they’ll start sliding when they face Mon- 
roe and never stop.” 

“I can’t see it that way,” the editor argued. “If 
their confidence keeps increasing, and if they win 
their games, they ought to go in against Monroe 
so cock-sure that they couldn’t be beaten.” 

“And they couldn’t be beaten either,” Danny 
growled, “if they’d work in the practice. Con- 
fidence is all right if you mix it up with good hon- 
est, hard work. But when a team says ‘We’re 
good enough just as we are,’ that team is due to 
have somebody bat it over the head.” 

“But — ” Keating began. 

“Oh, cut it out!” cried Danny. “I’ll be mad 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


enough in a minute to bite you. You have your 
ideas and I have mine. The only difference is 
that if my ideas are wrong I’m the one that suf- 
fers. If yours are wrong it’s simply a journalistic 
mistake. I tell you this nine is going to eat dirt 
mighty soon. You needn’t publish that, but you 
can put it under your hat and remember I said it.” 

Keating got up and left the seat as though his 
feelings were hurt. Danny finished the rest of 
the ride alone. He didn’t want company. 

A triumphant body of students met the nine at 
the Manor Hall station. Danny slipped away and 
walked to the dormitory building by way of the 
side streets. But Marty remained with the play- 
ers. Well, Danny thought bitterly, he had a right 
to stay for the cheering and the noise. It was his 
victory. It was his system that was pulling 
through. 

That night the captain doubted the wisdom of 
his course. Was he wrong? Keating’s words on 
the train came back to him. He had believed that 
the nine would wilt, but it went right on winning. 
Would it go on winning right along? 


A NOTE FROM CRAIG 


How could it? he demanded of himself, and 
tossed his head impatiently. This habit of care- 
less playing was bound to claim its just dues. He 
could see the proposition in no other way. 

He had read somewhere that in the big leagues 
a manager will never break up a team that is 
winning even though stronger men sit upon the 
bench. It seemed to him that Marty Black was 
following the same line of reasoning. The nine 
had begun to loaf in practice. The loafing had 
not brought about defeat. And now the coach 
was willing to let the loafing go on because no bad 
result had thus far come. 

The first of two games with Franklin came 
next. This game was to be played at Franklin, 
and Danny viewed it with alarm. Reports had 
come to him that the enemy had strength and 
speed, and her season’s record bore this out. Marty 
said cheerily that Franklin would be good prac- 
tice and would try out the nine for Monroe. But 
Danny, in the secrecy of his room, shook his head 
in disgust. Franklin, he thought, was quite likely 
to chew a big hole in the Green and White. 

167 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


The captain had thought that Jerome would 
work this game. But Marty Black began to direct 
the work while Steele, King and Jerome warmed 
up each afternoon, and Jerome soon showed signs 
of distress. Not that he was as wild as he had been 
in the past. But some of his control had slipped. 

“Better call Marty off,” Dutton advised Danny. 
“I think he’s worrying Jerome.” 

The captain went off to Jerry’s room. “How’s 
everything?” he asked genially. 

Jerome shook his head. “There’s a slip some 
place, Danny. Control isn’t what it was.” 

“Anything worrying you?” 

“If you mean Marty ” 

“I don’t,” Danny cried hastily. “I meant may- 
be if there was something on your mind.” 

“There isn’t,” said Jerome. “And if you mean 
Marty,” he added calmly, “that’s not what’s got 
me going. I’ve lost something. I’m not panicky 
about It will come back. I’m just off color 
for a day or so.” 

Danny grinned 4 *Got your nerve with you, 
haven’t you ?” - 


1 68 


A NOTE FROM CRAIG 


“I have,” said Jerome. “And there’s only one 
thing can take it from me. I don’t suppose I 
ought to say this to you, Danny, because you’re 
the captain. But if Marty began to make remarks 
or began to catch me, I’d be gone in a minute. 
Why, I don’t know. I guess it sounds cowardly, 
but that’s how things are with me. If he watches 
me and keeps quiet, I’m all right. But as soon 
as he says do this or that, I can’t do it. Then I 
lose my head.” 

“You only imagine that,” said Danny. 

“I don’t,” said Jerome. “I’m a queer eel, may- 
be, but I know what’s good for me, and Marty 
isn’t good for me. He knows so much about the 
game and he’s seen so many good pitchers — Rusie, 
and Meekin and Dad Clarke in their day — that 
when he catches me I’m always thinking that he’s 
having a quiet laugh at my expense. Foolish 
thought, isn’t it?” 

“Of course it is,” said Danny. He tapped a 
creaky floor board with his foot. “I was think- 
ing of using you against Franklin.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t,” said Jerome. “Of 


169 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


course, if you say yes I’ll go in. Only I’d rather 
wait until I was right.” 

Danny left the room with a lighter heart. He 
could skip Jerry’s turn without shaking that young 
man up. When Marty began to hint that King 
was pretty good Danny said: 

“All right; we’ll let King work.” 

The Franklin game was the first intimation that 
Danny’s ideas were right. Before the second in- 
ning was over he saw that the nine was beginning 
to slip. The play was no longer smooth. There 
was uncertainty and slowness, and a tendency to 
hesitate whenever a player had the ball. 

But Manor Hall won by a score of 8 to 7. In- 
ning after inning King found himself in trouble, 
and inning after inning Franklin threw away her 
chances. Twice runners were caught asleep on 
the base paths, and another time, with three on 
and two out, the batter drove the ball into the legs 
of one of his own runners for the third out. It 
was horseshoe luck for the Green and White. 

And Danny knew it. The stands cheered them- 
selves hoarse while the victorious team trotted to 


170 


A NOTE FROM CRAIG 


the locker room. The students saw only the score. 
Danny saw that only sleepy work had kept Frank- 
lin from a win. He was not deceived. He knew 
that the nine had shown the first crack in its ar- 
mor. What was worse, the first game of the big 
series with Monroe came next. 

As he jogged to the locker room he wondered 
if there was not some way in which he might 
start his boys working again. He was confident 
that Marty Black was alive to the fact that luck 
had won to-day. Also was he confident that 
Marty would stick to the system that was pulling 
games from the fire. Marty would let the nine 
take things easy. Marty would not break up a 
winning system. 

The captain stepped into the room. And at 
once he heard Marty’s voice: 

“Well, fellows, this is what I call plowing 
things up. We’ve played eleven games, and we’ve 
won ten. This Monroe series is as good as ours. 
There’s nothing to it. We can’t lose.” 

Danny, his cheeks red, passed down to his 
locker. Baggs winked at him. 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Come on, Danny,’* he coaxed. “Admit you 
were wrong. See how we’re winning.” 

The captain glared at the center-fielder. 
“You’ve played on the nine long enough to have 
better sense,” he snapped. 

A moment later he wished he could have re- 
called the words. It was bad policy to show that 
his temper was gone. And besides, so far Marty’s 
plan had all the best of the argument. The nine 
had won. It was best for him to hold his peace. 
But when the slump came — He pounded his fist 
against the locker door. Then he’d talk turkey. 

Three games were left on the schedule. Next 
came Monroe, then a return game with Franklin, 
and after that the second game with Monroe. 
Should the Monroe series be win and lose then a 
third game would be played. 

The Franklin game had been played on a Sat- 
urday. Over Sunday Danny absolutely refused to 
talk baseball. Keating came to see him, but he 
chased the editor with wrath in his eyes. 

“I want to tell you what Marty says,” Keating 
pleaded from the hallway. 


172 


A NOTE FROM CRAIG 


But Danny closed the door. Keating pounded 
on the panels. 

‘‘Marty/’ he called through the keyhole, “says 
that we’ll clean up Monroe with ease.” 

Danny did not go to the door. Well, what dif- 
ference did it make whether Marty told that to 
the fellows or whether The Greenie printed it 
and told it to the whole school? On Tuesday the 
school paper carried the story. Danny read the 
headlines and tossed the copy into his waste pa- 
per basket. 

A new let-down had come to the practice. It 
was more serious than the let-down of the preced- 
ing ten days, for this was a let-down that comes 
to a nine that has won through luck but does not 
know it; to a nine that thinks conceitedly that its 
own cleverness is responsible for its victories. 
There was no mistaking the atmosphere. Tal- 
mage, the third-baseman, actually asked to get off 
for a day or two. Danny swallowed hard and 
said no, and Talmage walked off as though huffed. 
And then, too, the players did not respond quickly 
when called. They dallied and lingered. The 


173 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


life and snap of the nine was going. Had it been 
going from overwork the captain would not have 
minded so much. Overwork would have meant 
that they had tried not wisely but too hard. It 
was the feeling that an easy task lay ahead that 
had routed this nine. 

Danny had vowed that he would hold his peace, 
but now he could not keep still. Instead of ad- 
dressing the players as a whole, he talked to them 
individually. This went on for two days. Then, 
as he was passing through the locker room he 
heard one of the substitutes say: 

“I suppose Danny thinks he’s got to talk like 
that. It’s just part of a captain’s job.” 

Danny swung around as though he would go 
back toward the speaker. After a moment he 
brought himself under control. He walked on 
to his locker. 

But though he had himself under control, his 
temper was burning. He tramped across the Yard 
with his teeth set. Pilgrim, the student mem- 
ber of the athletic committee, said he wanted a 
few minutes. Danny announced grimly that he 


174 


A NOTE FROM CRAIG 


wouldn’t talk baseball with any fellow in the place. 
He went up to his room and left Pilgrim staring 
after him in amazement. 

There was a letter on his study table. He rec- 
ognized the handwriting as Craig’s, and instantly 
the envelope was ripped and the short note was in 
his hands. He stared at the few words : 

Don’t take anything for granted. Dig in. 

Monroe is working like the mischief. 

“Dig in!” Danny groaned. “How in blazes 
can I dig in with a gang that’s asking for days 
off?” 


CHAPTER IX 

THE SLAUGHTER 

D ANNY guessed what Craig’s note meant. 
The man, off in the South some place, 
knew of their string of victories. From 
his long years of experience with boys he knew, 
too, that there would come a bold spirit of cock- 
iness. He had seen many a bark wrecked on such 
a rock. So, though he had refused to let Danny 
write to him, he sent his warning to the boy, and 
the fact that he had written at all showed how 
gravely he appreciated the danger. 

It would never do, Danny thought, to have any- 
one know that the old coach had written to him. 
Not that Craig meant to interfere — the captain 
knew better than that. But if the note were seen 
there would be talk. The boy tore the envelope 

176 


THE SLAUGHTER 


and note into small pieces. Piling the pieces in a 
little mound he set them afire with a match. He 
walked over to one of the windows and stood 
there with his hands in his pockets. 

Dig in I Well, for the last time he’d try. The 
question, however, was how could he get his nine 
going as it had been working three weeks before. 
Plan after plan came to him, but each was in turn 
cast aside as hopeless. He must make the fellows 
see the danger — but how? If he got them to- 
gether and made a speech and told them frankly 
what he thought, the squad would know that there 
was a complete lack of sympathy between captain 
and coach. Just at present the players attributed 
his anxiety to a burning, over anxious desire to 
win. It was better to have them think along such 
a line than to whisper darkly that their leaders 
were clashing. Anyway, should he make a speech 
he knew that the fellows would go away from the 
meeting laughing and saying that it was the same 
old story. 

Should he work them overtime — pound them 
until they had to work for him? His better judg- 


177 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


ment told him that this would be a mistake. The 
probable result would be to make the boys ugly 
and grouchy, and in no condition at all for an 
important game. 

Danny began to feel like a squirrel running 
around and around in his wheel with no outlet 
and no result. He turned away from the window 
and brushed up the charred embers of Craig’s 
letter. Dutton came in. 

“Well,” he said grimly,” if this nine pulls 
through the next game without taking a thunder- 
ing good licking, you can put me down as having 
a few cracks in my brain.” 

Danny walked back to the window. “I’ve done 
my best,” he said. 

He was still standing there when a knock came 
on the door. Dutton called, “Come in,” and a 
moment later, “Hello, Farrell! What brings you 
here?” 

“I want to see Danny,” said the right-fielder. 
“That is, if— if ” 

Danny turned from the window. “If what?” 

“If I’m not butting in,” said Farrell. 


178 


THE SLAUGHTER 


“Of course you’re not butting in,” said Danny. 
He had a warm spot in his heart for Farrell, for 
Farrell was one of the few boys who practiced as 
he wanted them to. “I’m always glad to see any 
of the fellows.” 

“Oh, I don’t mean it that way. I mean whether 
you’d want to hear what I have to say.” 

“About what?” 

“About the nine.” 

Danny caught his breath. “I’m mighty glad to 
hear what any man on the nine has to say,” he said. 
He watched Farrell narrowly. 

But despite this invitation to talk the right- 
fielder shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. 

“Well,” he said at last, “I’ve been thinking this 
over for a long time. I saw you worrying, and 
it’s been on the tip of my tongue a dozen times to 
ask if I might have a talk with you. To-day I 
made up my mind that I’d make a break right 
after the practice, and here I am.” 

“What do you mean?” Danny asked. 

“I mean what you’re thinking, and what’s hap- 
pening to the nine. I’m older than the other 


179 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


boys here — most of them anyway. I think this 
is a good school and a good nine, and we ought 
to clean up.” 

“We’re going to,” Dutton said cheerfully. 

“Danny don’t think so,” said Farrell. 

“Now what do you mean?” the captain de- 
manded. 

Farrell now had his courage. “Why, you know 
you think we’re going to lose this first Monroe 
game. You needn’t answer,” he added quickly. 
“I don’t want to put you in the hole. But there’s 
one thing certain. I know just what you know.” 

Danny glanced helplessly at Dutton. Ordina- 
rily he was used to any emergency; but to have a 
player come in and calmly tell him he was ex- 
pecting defeat was a little too much for him. 
What was worse, he knew that here was a boy 
speaking in all friendliness. 

“You’re talking wild,” he said vaguely. 
“You’re all twisted, Farrell.” 

“I’m not,” said the visitor. “I’ve seen such a 
bunch as this before. Last summer we had a nine 
in our town. I didn’t play, but I was a scorer 

180 


THE SLAUGHTER 


and they took me around. They won a string of 
eight or nine, and then they got swelled heads. 
You couldn’t make them work. They’d just see 
how pretty they could toss the ball around.” 

“What happened to them?” Dutton asked 
eagerly. 

“They got their medicine good and plenty. 
This crowd is going to get it the same way.” 

“They’re not,” said Danny. 

“They are,” said Farrell. “And you can’t help 
it. Nothing you can do will help it. There’s 
only one way this nine can be saved for the Mon- 
roe series.” 

“How’s that?” Danny demanded. 

“Let them get a good hammering in the first 
game. That may make them come back and work 
as they did a few weeks ago. I’d like to help 
you make them work before this first game, but 
you can’t do it.” 

“Why not?” Danny asked. 

“Oh, just because you can’t. You know what I 
mean. I’ve heard this gang talk. They say you’re 
so anxious to win that you’re- afraid of your own 


181 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


self, and they say that you’re loony about this kid 
Jerome, and that he is only good for about one 
good game a season and he’s already pitched that. 
Marty Black knows about the talk, and he hasn’t 
tried to stop it.” 

“Come now,” Danny cried sharply. “None of 
that, Farrell.” 

“I know what I know,” the boy insisted stub- 
bornly. “I don’t mean that Marty would go 
around saying you’re crazy about Jerome. The 
trouble is he thinks Jerry is no good, and when 
he hears the fellows talking that way I suppose he 
doesn’t want to interfere because he thinks they’re 
right. But that sort of talk isn’t doing you any 
good, and you can just go and bet your glass eye 
on that.” 

“You haven’t the right dope on Marty,” Danny 
said loyally. 

“All right!” Farrell answered. “Now about 
that nine in my town. It had a captain and it 
had a manager. The manager got a big head 
with the players. He wanted to let them drift. 
The captain was all for work, and the fellows 


182 


THE SLAUGHTER 


laughed at him. Well, he kept his mouth shut 
and let the manager have his own way. Then, 
when the blow-up came, the manager was over- 
board and the captain came back in the saddle. 
See what I mean?” 

“Just what do you mean?” Dutton asked quietly. 

“I mean this: It’s up to either Danny or Marty 
Black to be shown up before the nine.” 

“Here !” Danny cried. “I won’t have ” 

“Just a minute,” Farrell said. “This Monroe 
game is going to turn things lose. The nine is go- 
ing to be licked. If it’s Marty Black’s nine and he 
places them, he will be the one who is to be thrown 
down. If it’s your nine and you place them, you 
will be thrown down. Take your choice.” 

Danny argued that he and Marty were not at 
loggerheads and that nobody was going to be 
thrown down. Farrel stared up at the ceiling and 
said nothing. 

“Look here,” said Danny, “just suppose there 
was something to all this talk of yours. Not that 
there is, of course, but just let us suppose that 
there was. If I knew the nine was going to lose 


183 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


it wouldn’t be right for me to take advantage of 
Marty any more than it would be right for Marty 
to take advantage of me.” 

His words had no effect on Farrell. The right- 
fielder admitted quite cheerfully that he didn’t care 
a copper for the ethics of the situation. 

“I’m interested only in the result,” he said. 
“You take my tip and you’ll have this nine with 
you heart and soul.” 

“I can’t unload the responsibility on anybody 
else,” Danny said with a shake of his head. “They 
don’t teach us that spirit at Manor Hall.” 

Farrell was not abashed. “I’m not in favor 
of throwing the harpoon into a fellow,” he admit- 
ted, “but regardless of what Manor Hall teaches 
there is a time when it’s a case of save himself 
who can. This is a case of save the nine. Well, 
I’ve got it off my mind and I’m not going to bother 
about it any more. I’ll play the best I know how.” 

“I know you will,” said Danny. He followed 
Farrell to the door and patted his back. A mo- 
ment later he came back to Dutton. 

“What do you think of that?” he asked. 

184 


THE SLAUGHTER 


“It’s good practical common sense,” Dutton an- 
swered, “and yet — ” He shrugged his shoulders. 
“I don’t like the sound of it, Danny. Anyway, 
there goes the supper bell. Let’s forget it. Far- 
rell has some queer ideas, but one thing is sure. 
He’s your friend.” 

“I know that,” said the captain. 

All during the meal Danny kept turning the 
right-fielder’s proposition in his mind. As the 
boys crowded from the dining hall his mind was 
made up. He’d fight fair. He wouldn’t try to 
shirk responsibility. 

Meanwhile, Jerome had regained his confidence. 
He felt that he had something on the ball. The 
captain had practically decided to use him in the 
first game against Monroe. Dutton had been 
handling the boy of late, and Dutton had reported 
that his control was never better. 

But two thorns kept jabbing the captain and 
kept him from a final decision. One was that 
Marty Black still persisted in declaring that Je- 
rome was not what a pitcher should be, and 
the other was the attitude of the fellows. Danny 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


had thought that Jerry’s game against Meade had 
brought the squad behind him with a jump. Per- 
haps this had been the effect for a while, but this 
advantage was now lost. The players said that 
Jerry was only dependable for one good game a 
season, and that that one good game had al- 
ready been pitched. That meant that they 
would not support him with heart-warming con- 
fidence. 

So, when Marty and Danny got together to dis- 
cuss a pitcher, the captain’s head was spinning 
with a confusion of thoughts. Marty did not sug- 
gest King. In fact, he suggested nobody. He 
leaned back in his chair and stared at Danny. 

“Well, Cap?” he asked. 

“We’ll scratch out King to start with,” said 
Danny. “He’s just worked two games in a row, 
and his last performance against Franklin wasn’t 
any too showy.” 

“That leaves Steele,” said Marty, “and — and 
Jerome.” 

Danny nodded. “I like Jerome,” he said after 
a moment of silence. 


THE SLAUGHTER 


Marty got out of the chair and made a show of 
raising a window a bit higher. 

“Cap,” he said seriously, “ever since the athletic 
committee told me you were boss — no offense, but 
that’s a crazy custom — since they told me you 
were boss IVe given you your own way. But 
here’s where I put in my oar again. I don’t 
like this bird Jerome, and I guess you know it.” 

“I do,” said Danny dryly. 

“As soon as I see a left-hander with a bad rec- 
ord I want to get away from him. Here’s an im- 
portant game coming. We have a nine chock full 
of confidence. That confidence will pull them 
through. But if you tie them to a pitcher they 
doubt, they’ll go higher than a kite. I want this 
team to win, Cap. I’m just as anxious to see it 
win as you are.” 

The man’s sincerity touched the boy. Marty’s 
heart was in the right place; it was his way of 
looking at things that had brought about the 
clashes. 

“I know you want a winner,” Danny answered. 
“I’ve never doubted that for a minute.” 


187 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“All right,” said Marty. “Now for this bird 
Jerome; if I thought he could get away with that 
game I’d honestly say use him. But the nine 
has no use for him, and I think the nine is 
right.” 

“The nine is wrong,” said Danny. He added 
hastily: “But I haven’t picked Jerome yet.” 

“That’s good,” cried the coach. “A captain 
should have an open mind. As for King — May- 
be you’re right about those two games in suc- 
cession. I’d like to see him start against Mon- 
roe, but maybe you’re right. We’ll scratch him. 
That leaves Steele. How about him, Cap?” 

Danny shook his head helplessly. “What about 
Steele?” he asked. 

“I prefer him to Jerome,” Marty stated bluntly. 
“You know and I know that he’s at his best when 
he figures the game is a cinch. Well, here’s a 
game this crowd doesn’t see how it can lose. This 
game, with the dope running that way, was just 
made for Steele. I’d say take a chance and use 
him.” 

But Danny did not wish to commit himself. He 
188 


THE SLAUGHTER 


said, presently, that he’d like to have a day to 
think it over. 

“Go ahead,” Marty said heartily. “And re- 
member, I’ve got my heart set on this Monroe 
series, too.” 

There was no doubt about that, Danny thought 
as he walked back to the dormitory building. 
The pity of it was, though, that the coach should 
do so many things that served to upset the boys 
who formed the squad. He was like a man who, 
with the best of intentions, commits folly after 
folly. Were he dealing with men, Danny was 
sure that he would be successful to a marked de- 
gree. But among boys he seemed to slip up. 

Danny had an idea what Farrell would advise 
if that practical young person were asked for an 
opinion. He would say to pitch Steele and let 
everything be up to Marty. But Danny was not 
built along such lines. He would make an honest 
fight for that game, and if there was a chance 
of the fellows playing in back of Jerome he would 
pitch him whether it meant win or lose. 

That afternoon, while the pitchers warmed up, 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Marty came over and called for a glove. At once 
Jerome became flustered. He didn’t pitch as 
wildly as in the past, but nevertheless he showed 
up poorly alongside the less nervous Steele and 
King. Danny wished that the coach would go 
away and let the hurlers alone. Soon Marty did 
quit the job. He walked off with Danny. 

“There you are, Cap,” he remarked. “Wild as 
a gale of wind. I went there just to size him up. 
You see for yourself what’s that. Now, this boy 
King ” 

“He didn’t show very much,” Danny retorted. 

“He didn’t,” Marty admitted quite cheerfully. 
“But a lucky pitcher is better than the best man 
in the world who loses his game. Of course we 
agreed to scratch King and that’s the end of it. 
But this Jerome — Are you still considering him, 
Cap?” 

Danny nodded. 

Marty laid a hand on the boy’s arm. “You 
play this game safe,” he advised. “Steele is your 
man.” 

Danny made no reply to this. 


190 


THE SLAUGHTER 


Only two days remained before the Monroe 
game. That afternoon the captain did everything 
possible to get work out of his players. He la- 
bored earnestly to set them an example, but soon 
he realized how hopeless were his efforts. Yet be- 
hind it all he felt the need of keeping up the fight. 
He must not shirk any part of the responsibility. 

No sooner had he wakened to the fact that the 
fielding practice was hopeless than he turned his 
attention to batting. He had an idea that the first 
Monroe game might yet be saved if his players 
did heavy execution with their bats. 

The boys, however, when they came to the plate, 
performed their labors carelessly. They swung at 
anything. Danny wearily cautioned them. 

After the cautioning they stood like so many 
sticks waiting for the ball to cut the exact heart 
of the plate. Finally Danny’s impatience got the 
better of him. 

“Why didn’t you swing at that?” he cried to 
Steele. “You ought to have knocked that into 
the next town.” 

“It wasn’t over,” Steele answered sullenly. 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“It was over the outside corner,” Danny cried, 
“and the easiest kind of an out-curve.” 

“You called me for striking at the last out- 
curve.” 

“It wasn’t the same kind of ball,” Danny cried 
fiercely. “That other was a fast one and at least 
six inches outside.” 

He saw that Steele was tired of the argument, 
and he realized suddenly that it was no use. Ar- 
guing was useless. He was making matters worse. 
The boys were simply playing against him feeling 
all the time that they were quite able to romp away 
with this game against Monroe. 

Danny came in to the bench. From there he 
watched the sorry mess that was called practice. 
From snatches of conversation that he heard, he 
knew that most of the fellows thought that Jerome 
in the box would mean trouble. 

He kicked a bat aside and stepped forth again. 
At that moment Baggs passed Marty. 

“Jerome going to pitch?” the center-fielder 
asked. 

Marty shook his shoulders suggestively. 


192 


THE SLAUGHTER 


Then at last did Danny realize that he couldn’t 
pitch the boy. He must let Marty have his way. 
But as he sadly undressed in the gym that night 
he had the consolation of knowing that he had 
left no stone unturned in an effort to shoulder his 
share of the responsibility. Even then he felt 
that he would have pitched Jerome if he could 
have counted on any support for him. 

After supper the captain went to the coach’s 
lodgings. 

“It’s Steele,” he said. 

“Good 1” cried Marty. “You can go to bed and 
forget the game.” 

Danny shook his head. 

“Look here, Cap,” Marty said good humoredly, 
“do you think Monroe has a chance the way this 
bunch is traveling?” 

“I think we’re going to get licked,” Danny an- 
swered. “Why don’t you help me, Marty? Get 
them out to-morrow and make them work. It’s 
the last chance.” 

“And have them lose their confidence?” the 
coach asked in amazement. 


193 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“They’re overconfident,” said the captain. 
“That’s what’s going to beat them.” 

Marty smiled. “Tell me that after the game,” 
he invited. “Give me a confident team every time. 
I remember back when the old National League 
had twelve clubs instead of eight ” 

“This isn’t the League,” said Danny. “This is 
a schoolboy nine and we’re handled as though we 
were professionals” 

The criticism did not disturb Marty in the 
least. “Baseball is baseball,” he said, “no matter 
who plays it. What’s the matter, Cap? Going? 
Well, forget about this game. It’s won.” 

Danny didn’t sleep well that night. Next morn- 
ing the men and women who would witness the 
game began to arrive. The school town took 
on holiday dress. Everybody seemed to be 
merry. 

There was practice that afternoon — a light, airy 
bubble of practice that lasted but a few minutes. 
Steele was told that he was to pitch. At this news 
the squad seemed to brighten and to look with a 
smile at Marty. The coach smiled back. And 


194 


THE SLAUGHTER 


on the way back to the locker room he fell into 
step with Farrell. 

“To-morrow’s where we get square for old 
scores,” Marty said genially. 

Farrell didn’t answer. But Baggs, who was in 
the rear, said with a chuckle : 

“Yes, I guess we’ll teach them a lesson.” 

By this time Danny had resigned himself to 
what he thought was inevitable. He knew that 
next day Steele would do his best, that Dutton 
could be depended upon, that Farrell would do 
his duty. He himself would play the game the 
best he knew how. But he expected the rest of the 
nine to fall apart — Cross, Talmage and the others. 

From his window he watched the frolic of stu- 
dents and graduates in the Yard. To-morrow, he 
thought, they would be singing a different tune. 
Dutton, who was watching beside him, gave a 
short laugh. 

“Come on, Danny,” he invited. “Let’s go to 
bed.” 

Fifteen minutes later the captain was asleep. It 
was a sleep of nervous exhaustion. 


i95 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Early next morning the Monroe nine arrived. 
By this time Manor Hall had so many visitors that 
they simply overflowed the streets. Danny was 
surprised to find that he enjoyed his breakfast. 
He even got a share of enjoyment from his din- 
ner. Then he journeyed with the squad to the 
locker room. They donned their uniforms. 

Up to this point the captain had been enjoying 
a reaction from worry. His nerves had rebelled 
and had demanded a rest. But the sound of Mon- 
roe’s cheers stiffened the boy’s spine. After all, 
the nine that won the first game had half the bat- 
tle, and he did not want to surrender one-half 
without a struggle. He asked Steele about his arm. 

“Great !” the pitcher grinned. “Watch me mow 
them down.” 

Danny went out feeling that perhaps a miracle 
might happen — perhaps Steele might make good. 

But the first Monroe batter greeted Steele with 
a three-bagger, and the next boy hit to right field 
for two bases. The first run of the game was in. 
Danny felt that Manor Hall’s hopes had already 
crumbled. 


196 


THE SLAUGHTER 


Steele, too, had lost his varnish of confidence. 
He was plainly worried. The next batter sacri- 
ficed. The runner went to third. The Green and 
White stands gave a cheer of encouragement. 

The cheers did not help Steele. The fourth 
batter slashed him for a single. Right then and 
there the nine went to pieces. 

Steele walked the next two boys. The bases 
were full with one out. 

Marty, on the bench, signalled to Danny. 
Change pitchers? Danny signalled back yes. 
Again Marty made certain signs, and the signs 
were a question. Jerome or King? Danny se- 
lected King. The way things stood now it would 
be suicide to pitch Jerome. 

So King came out. He struck out the next boy, 
and the Green and White cheer sounded with 
some body to it. Then a boy dumped the ball to 
Cross, and Cross let it go through his legs. Two 
more runs came in. 

“I told them,” Danny muttered grimly. 

After that came a foul that Dutton missed, and 
then a screeching liner to right field. But Farrell, 


197 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


starting to run as the ball was hit, made a circus 
catch. The inning was over, and Monroe had 
scored four runs. 

The nine, as it came in, was about shot to pieces. 
The fellows dropped down on the bench. 

“King will hold them now,” Marty said to 
Danny. 

“Sure,” said Danny. But he didn’t believe it. 
He caught Farrell’s eye, and Farrell winked. 

A long, thin boy named Maxim was pitching 
for Monroe. Cross came to bat upset because of 
his error, and he struck out on three pitched balls. 
Chapman tapped the ball in front of the plate and 
never had a chance. Danny, cold with rage, hit to 
deep short and managed to beat out the hit. Baggs, 
the surest hitter on the nine, came to the plate. 

“Kill it,” the stands begged. “Kill it.” 

The center-fielder tried hard. He shot the ball 
on a line to left field. The coacher on first lost his 
head and waved him on. Baggs started for sec- 
ond — and before he had gone halfway the ball was 
there waiting for him. It was crazy, foolish base- 
ball. 


THE SLAUGHTER 


The Green and White stands sat stunned. Was 
this the nine that report said couldn’t lose? 

On the bench Marty Black bit the end of his 
fountain pen and kept his eyes on his score-book. 

Despite two infield errors, both by Talmage, 
King managed to squeeze through the second in- 
ning in safety. Marty picked up a world of courage. 

‘‘Monroe’s through,” he told the nine. “Get 
a few runs, now.” 

But Manor Hall’s batters kept hitting at bad 
balls, and not a boy got on base. The third in- 
ning started — and trouble once more broke for the 
Green and White. 

The first boy got his base on balls. He took a 
daring lead. King snapped the ball to first, and 
Cross let the sphere go through him. The run- 
ner went to third. The Monroe stands laughed 
uproariously. Oh, but this was funny! 

Two runs came in that inning, and the score 
was 6 to o. 

On the bench, between the halves of the in- 
ning, Marty poured a torrent of sarcasm at Cross. 
Cross glared sullenly at the ground. Danny said 


199 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


nothing. And after Monroe had scored another 
run in the fifth inning, Marty also fell into si- 
lence. The players, as they came to the bench, 
did not look at Danny. The score was 7 to o. 

Monroe had three runners on the bases in the 
sixth inning, but did not score. And then came the 
lucky seventh. The stands stood up and stretched. 

King got rid of the first two batters. The third 
boy hit him for a double. Then, in rapid suc- 
cession, came three singles. 

The Green and White team was floundering. 
The enemy shrewdly began to bunt. Talmage — 
Talmage who had wanted days off — raced in, 
scooped the ball with one hand, and threw it ten 
feet over Cross’s head. Four runs were in and a 
runner was on third. 

Danny signalled to the bench. Jerome threw 
off his sweater and came forth. 

He got a feeble cheer from the stands. He took 
his place on the mound. Dutton signalled for that 
in-shoot above the knees. Jerome nodded. Then 
Dutton’s fingers telegraphed a notice that the run- 
ner was far off third. 


200 


THE SLAUGHTER 


Jerome swung around and threw. Talmage 
caught the ball and froze to it. The runner was 
out as he slid back to the bag. And the score 
board showed that Monroe led by a score of n too. 

As the players spread along the bench Baggs sat 
down beside Danny. 

“I’m sorry, Danny,” he whispered, “but it’s too 
late to wake up now, isn’t it?” 

“Too late for to-day,” said Danny. 

He was right. His nine got two runs in the 
last inning because Maxim eased up, but these 
runs were practically a gift. 

Nevertheless, there was one bright ray through 
the eighth and ninth innings, and that was the 
hurling of Jerome. Unimpressed by the score, 
the pitcher worked calmly and methodically. His 
control was excellent, and he had the enemy hit- 
ting weakly at curve balls. In the eighth inning 
he retired the side in order, and in the ninth inning 
he pitched to but four batters. As the last man 
was retired a man stood up in the stands. 

“Why didn’t they send you in first?” he roared. 
“What’s the matter with Jerome !” 


201 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Jerome went in to the bench as though he had 
not heard. But the players had heard, and the 
substitutes had heard, and Marty had heard, too. 

A beaten nine, they went quietly back to the 
locker room. Danny, with set lips, took his shower 
and his rub. There wasn’t a word spoken. He 
adjusted his four-in-hand tie, combed his hair, and 
reached for his hat. 

As he opened the gym door he looked back. 
Every eye in the room dropped. Danny closed the 
door and went down stairs and off to the dormitory 
building. 

Half an hour later Dutton came in. He tossed 
his hat on top of the bureau. 

“I don’t often make predictions,” said the 
catcher, “but here’s where I start. Marty Black 
is due to spend a few thoughtful hours this even- 
ing.” 

Danny looked up. “How do you know?” 

“Because after you left he didn’t have a word 
to say. And any time Mr. Black keeps quiet after 
a game you can just bet that something has rapped 
him across the ribs.” 


202 


CHAPTER X 

BROKEN HARNESS 

D ANNY went down to supper that night 
with the resolve that no fellow would get 
him to talk about the game. He had an 
idea that students would come to him with sympa- 
thetic words. Instead, he was astonished to find 
that everybody was scowling at him and at his 
players. 

For the school suddenly felt that it had been de- 
ceived by The Greenie, by Marty Black, and by 
each and every individual member of the nine. 
A chorus of criticism had already started that 
seemed likely to annihilate every fellow connected 
with baseball. There was not a kind word for a 
single member of the squad, not even for Jerome. 
Students said bitterly that he would have been 


203 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


hammered, too, only Monroe had gotten tired run- 
ning the bases. 

At first Danny resented this attitude of the 
school. But soon he came to be thankful that 
things were so. He wanted the squad pounded so 
badly that it would hide in the dormitory building 
and keep away from the Yard. He wanted the 
nine to feel the iron of disgrace. 

Over Sunday he let the lesson sink in. He did 
not go near Marty, nor did Marty come near 
him. Monday morning he was out of bed with 
a bound. To-day they started back, he thought. 
But halfway through his toilet he stopped with a 
frown. Suppose the nine was so completely de- 
moralized that its courage was gone. What then? 

Something, though, told him that his boys had 
slipped but had not collapsed. For on Sunday 
they had sheepishly presented themselves at 
prayers. At that time they had not looked alto- 
gether discouraged. Rather had they the appear- 
ance of boys who had taken bitter medicine and 
had found it good for what ailed them. 

Monday afternoon the captain came a bit late 


204 


BROKEN HARNESS 


to the locker room. The place was empty. Out 
on the field the players were working. Danny 
walked to a window and watched. 

Marty Black was directing. There was nothing 
sloppy about the work to-day. The ball was kept 
flying. Every man was on his toes. There was a 
tense, keen grimness to every move. Danny 
turned away from the window with a nod of his 
head. He thought he had the fellows where he 
wanted them. 

He came out to the field and walked slowly 
toward the bench. Baggs nodded and then turned 
away his head. Talmage said a faint “Hello, 
Danny.” 

Danny smiled. “Don’t look so down in the 
mouth, Tal,” he joked. He went on to the plate 
and met Marty. “Call the fellows,” he said. 

Soon the players came in. They didn’t take 
their time to-day. They moved briskly. They 
were full of life. Watching them Danny got the 
idea that they would willingly and penitently have 
groveled in the dirt had the order been given to 
them. 


205 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“You fellows,” the captain said gravely, “know 
what happened Saturday. You all realize how it 
seems to be chasing balls all over the lot. You 
know what it means to have your school look upon 
you as a joke. Now, perhaps you think that Mon- 
roe is going to do that same trick again.” 

“We don’t,” said Cross. 

“She isn’t,” said Danny. “If this nine will work 
the way it did the early part of the season Monroe 
will have a different story to tell next Saturday. 
The whole trouble with us was that we were led 
astray. We thought we couldn’t be beaten ” 

“You didn’t think so,” Farrell broke in calmly. 
“You knew just what was going to happen.” 

Danny tried hard to take no notice of the in- 
terruption. What was the use, he thought, of tak- 
ing a slap at Marty? 

“We thought,” he went on gravely, “that Mon- 
roe would drop dead as soon as we came out on 
the diamond. If we hadn’t felt that way the game 
would have been close. Maybe we would not have 
won, but we would have given them a fight. Any- 
way, the thing that beat us was not baseball. It 


206 


BROKEN HARNESS 


was overconfidence. As soon as Monroe began 
to score we lost our nerve and everything was 
over.” 

“Correct,” said Farrell. 

“This nine,” Danny continued, “proved three 
weeks ago that it could play good ball. We’re 
going to prove that again. I think that every fel- 
low here will work hard to win back our reputation. 
Hard work alone will do it.” 

“We’ll do the work,” said Baggs. 

“Now, what I want to see every fellow do every 
day is to make each play as though the Monroe 
series depended on that play. At the bat I want 
you to think that every practice hit is the hit that 
means victory or defeat. Use your brains. If 
the pitcher is wild, make him pitch. If he puts 
over an easy one that you know you can hit, don’t 
juggle your bat and wait to see whether it cuts 
the plate or not — lace it out. I want to see free 
hitting. Just the same I want to see every fellow 
take advantage of a pitcher who is going wild. 
And as to the fielding, I want your heart in it all 
the time. I want you to try for everything. No 


207 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


chap ever made a success who was afraid to take 
a chance because he might make an error. Get 
into the game and play your best.” 

He turned way to the bench. The nine scat- 
tered. Marty followed him. 

“That all you are going to say to them, Cap?” 

“Yes.” 

“No roast for the way they played Saturday?” 

“It wasn’t ball playing that lost the game,” said 
Danny. “It was the stuff that was put into their 
heads.” 

Marty walked away. 

Never did a captain have a more willing crowd 
of workers than Danny had that day. The out- 
fielders were away with the crack of the bat, and 
when they got the ball they held it scarcely an 
instant. Every infielder was on his toes. The 
practice was touch and go every minute. At the 
end of the day, on the way to the locker room, 
Farrell passed Danny and grinned and winked. 

“They’re coming back,” he said. He lowered 
his voice : “So it was Marty’s nine that was thrown 
down.” 


208 


BROKEN HARNESS 


“You’re mistaken,” Danny said sharply. “I 
didn’t plot ” 

“I know,” Farrell said earnestly. “I didn’t go 
to you thinking you’d follow my suggestion, but it 
was on my mind and I had to speak. Just the 
same, it was Marty’s nine, and Marty is the one 
who knows best that the roof fell in.” 

That day’s practice was not a spasmodic up- 
heaval. The next day the squad still had its 
chastened mood, and it did its work carefully and 
well. 

Danny had an idea that his pitchers might be 
nervous facing Monroe in the next game, so he 
started a steady, plugging drive of batting practice. 
King, facing the ’Varsity, wasn’t any too sure, and 
Danny knew that he had not yet recovered from 
the hammering his curves had received. Steele 
was hopeless. The way Monroe had greeted him 
had sapped his courage. Jerome was the only 
one of the three to hold his own against the line 
of boys that walked steadily to the plate. 

So Danny began to nurse Jerome. He pitched 
him just enough to keep his hand in. And soon 


209 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


it began to be whispered that Jerome would work 
in the second game. 

By this time, though, the squad was ready to 
believe that the captain knew pretty well what 
was what. Of course, few of the players had any 
real confidence in Jerry. They said among them- 
selves that he hadn’t worked long enough in the 
first Monroe game to have given a real account of 
himself. But if Danny said he was the boy — 
Well, Danny had been right about the practice, 
and he might be right about this. 

The captain had one long talk with the pitcher. 

“Think you could hold Monroe?” he asked. 

Jerome nodded. “I don’t think they’d hit me 
hard. They didn’t hit me in those two innings 
last Saturday. It’s only a question of whether I 
could stick through nine innings and keep putting 
that ball over. You see, I can talk to you about 
my control and not fly off the handle. But if 
anybody else started to say control to me I’d get 
rattled. That’s funny, isn’t it?” 

Danny did not ask who was meant by “anybody 
else.” 


210 


BROKEN HARNESS 


“It’s your nerves,” he explained. “Now, Jerry, 
just between you and me, can you pull through 
that game?” 

“I can go in and pitch my best and give them 
a fight every inning.” 

“Don’t you feel any more confident than that?” 

Jerome shook his head. “I do and I don’t. 
One minute I feel that if I went in there and 
worked just as I do in the practice there’d be noth- 
ing to it. Then I begin to feel as though every- 
thing would go wrong — that I’d lose control and 
that they’d hit me. Yet I don’t dread the game. 
If I was told to pitch, I’d pitch. Anyway, I’ve 
had an idea that I’ll go in.” 

“Why?” Danny asked. 

“I’ve been watching Steele and King. They 
both had the heart thumped out of them. I fig- 
ured that you and Marty wouldn’t want to start 
either of them after what had happened, so you’d 
take a long chance on me.” 

“It won’t be a long chance — if we pitch you,” 
Danny said stoutly. 

Yet, as he went down to his room, he wished 


21 1 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


that there was some chance to use Steele or King. 
He had been disappointed to find Jerome shy on 
confidence. He had reasoned that the boy would 
be feeling an ardent itch to get at the enemy. In- 
stead, Jerome acted as though he would not be cha- 
grined if another pitcher was selected. 

What soured the captain’s mind for a time was 
his positive conviction that Jerome could stop 
Monroe dead if he would only grit his teeth to the 
task. It was a pity that Jerome was such an in- 
and-outer. And yet he would have to be used. 
His logic was right. King and Steele had had the 
heart pounded out of them. 

Danny saw but one ray of hope. Jerome had 
promised to fight through every inning. 

There wasn’t much discussion as to who should 
pitch. Marty talked it over with Danny Thurs- 
day afternoon. 

“I suppose,” he said, “you feel that Jerome 
ought to get a crack at them after last Saturday’s 
blowup?” 

“He ought to,” said Danny. “King was pound- 
ed hard.” 


212 


BROKEN HARNESS 


“It was King’s off day,” the coach replied. 
“Every pitcher is bad at times. Well, I guess 
Jerome is the best we can do. How is he — ner- 
vous?” 

“He is and he isn’t,” said Danny. “Better not 
talk to him about the game. Just let him alone.” 

“That’s the dope,” said Marty. “If anybody 
as much as looks at that bird he starts to throw 
them through the roof. Well, I hope he stays on 
the ground.” 

There was no doubt but that the nine was play- 
ing vastly better ball. The school, however, was 
pessimistic about the outcome of the game. For 
one thing, the contest was to be played at Monroe. 
Then, since last Saturday, the nine had been prac- 
ticing behind closed gates and nobody knew what 
was going on. Keating tried to get in one after- 
noon, but Danny stopped him. 

“Look here,” said the editor, “I want to print 
something about the nine.” 

“You’ve printed enough for one season,” said 
the captain. 

“But Marty Black said it was all right,” Keat- 


213 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


ing wailed. “I wouldn’t turn lose a story to hurt 
the nine for the world. And I must print some- 
thing.” 

“All right,” Danny answered. “Pound the nine 
for the way it played last Saturday.” 

“I don’t want to pound.” 

“Then praise — and you’ll have every fellow 
in school cutting your throat. It’s no use, Keat- 
ing. I can’t risk any more trouble. You don’t 
get in.” 

Keating turned away. “Well,” he said, “I’ll 
print an appeal to stand by the team and go to 
Monroe for the game.” 

“I don’t care if not a single fellow goes,” Danny 
stated emphatically. “This bunch is in disgrace, 
and I want it to stay in disgrace until it does 
something to justify school confidence. And look 
here, Keat, if we win Saturday ” 

“Yes?” 

“Don’t you print a line about how we’ll win the 
deciding game or I’ll be in for a talk with you.” 

“I won’t print half a line,” Keating promised. 

Friday the nine practiced with a grim zeal. 


214 


BROKEN HARNESS 


After the work, as Danny and Marty left the 
locker room, the fellows began to gather at the 
far end. 

“What’s hatching there?” Marty asked sus- 
piciously. 

Danny did not know. But an hour later Cross 
knocked at his door in the dormitory building. 

“The fellows want me to say,” the first-base- 
man began, “that no matter how to-morrow’s game 
ends they will have done their best.” 

“I know it,” Danny smiled. “You tell them 
that I haven’t a bit of fault to find.” 

Next morning the squad left for Monroe. 
There were cheers in the Yard, cheers on the way 
to the station — but very few students accompanied 
the team. Marty grumbled that everything would 
be breaking for Monroe. Danny said nothing. 
He had a nine to-day, he thought, that would fight 
to the last pitched ball, cheers or no cheers. To 
that extent he was satisfied. 

Jerome kept pretty much to himself. Danny, 
as the train approached Monroe, dropped into the 
seat alongside him. 


215 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“How do you feel?” he asked. 

“I wish the game was over,” said Jerome. 
“The way I look at it, this whole thing is up to 
me. If I break to-day, we lose our last chance.” 

“Nervous?” Danny asked. 

“I don’t know what I am. I know that my mind 
is made up to pitch if I have to bite the ball in 
half. Outside of that I know nothing.” 

Here, the captain thought, was a sort of des- 
perate courage. He knew by the signs that to-day 
Jerome would pitch on his nerve. The cry of the 
brakemen — “Monroe! Monroe!” — ran through 
the cars. Danny, with the others, crowded from 
the train. When he looked around the platform 
Dutton had Jerome by the arm and was leading 
him off. 

The game that afternoon was a bitter struggle. 
It was a game that Manor Hall should have lost — 
but she won. Grimly she stuck to her guns all 
the afternoon, and it was her grimness and her 
courage that at last brought her victory. She had 
not yet thoroughly recovered from her first rout. 
But she could fight, and fight she did. Again and 


216 


BROKEN HARNESS 


again she was turned back with two or three boys 
on the bases. Always she returned to the attack. 
And at last, under this bombardment of dangerous 
moments, Monroe cracked. Three infield errors 
in the eighth filled the bases, and then Baggs un- 
limbered a burly drive to the center-field fence. 
The final score was 7 to 5. 

And Jerome had had a full share in the victory. 
He pitched a game that was enough to turn a 
coach’s hair white. Time after time he slipped 
and passed men, and time after time he stood on 
the mound and pulled himself together and 
crawled out of danger. He wilted, but he never 
gave up. Danny and Cross and Dutton realized 
the battle he was fighting, and there was a warm 
personal note in the encouragement they called to 
him. After Baggs’ hit in the eighth, when the 
nine came out to take the field, # Dutton walked 
with one arm on Jerry’s shoulder. 

“You must hold them,” he said. 

“After that hit?” Jerome asked. “Of course 
I must. And I will.” 

He did. Not a Monroe boy reached first base 
217 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


during the eighth or ninth. When the last man 
was out, instead of racing for the dressing-room, 
he came in to the bench for his sweater. He sat 
there with it, and Danny came in to him. 

“What’s the matter, Jerry?” he asked. 

“I’m tired,” said the boy. “Let me sit here a 
while.” He sighed. “I’m glad that game’s over.” 

Danny patted his knee. “You’re the gamest 
pitcher in the string,” he said. “I know, Jerry.” 

Jerome smiled wanly. “Thanks, Danny. My 
heart was in my throat every inning.” 

After a while they walked to the dressing-room. 
What a place it was! None of the gloom now 
that had characterized last Saturday. Instead 
there was song and joke, and a big yell for Jerome 
when he came through the door. Over in a corner 
Marty was announcing that he knew this nine was 
going to come through. 

The merriment died after a while. They went 
back to Manor Hall. News of the victory had 
been telephoned to the school. It seemed that 
every fellow was down at the station to meet the 
train. The pessimism had passed. 


218 


BROKEN HARNESS 


But the squad very sensibly refused to be lion- 
ized. So the celebration fell flat after a few min- 
utes. It is hard to make lions of those who re- 
fuse to roar. 

Two games were left on the schedule. Next 
Wednesday came a game with Franklin, and after 
that the last battle with Monroe. 

Danny had an idea that the win over Monroe 
would gradually bring Jerome to a point where 
he would be unbeatable. He did not express this 
thought even to Dutton. Sunday he went up to 
Jerome’s room and found the pitcher stretched 
out and calmly reading a book. 

“How’s the big gun?” the captain asked. 

Jerome smiled. “Fine ! Say, but my nerves did 
surely raise ructions with me for a while.” 

“How are you now?” 

“Oh, I’m all right now. That game showed 
me that I can pull out even if I do wobble a bit. 
It’s all a question of how stiff you hold your spine.” 

“Of course it is,” said Danny. 

This time victory did not go to the heads of 
the nine. When the squad assembled for practice 


219 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Monday there was no tendency to loaf. The play- 
ers had an idea that Maxim would work against 
them next Saturday, and they were resolved that 
this time he would not shut them out for eight 
innings. Batting practice ran vigorously all after- 
noon. Jerome, however, was not worked. He 
took a light warmup, and then disappeared toward 
the locker room. 

Marty came to Danny. “What’s the matter 
with Jerome? Did you tell him to go in?” 

Danny nodded. “I’m saving him,” he ex- 
plained. 

The coach’s eyes narrowed. “For what?” 

“I don’t know just yet.” 

“Cap,” said Marty, “he won. I’m not deny- 
ing that. But did you ever see a more ragged 
game? He had horseshoes all over him to get 
away with it.” 

“Well,” Danny replied, “the big thing is that 
he did get away with it. And you say that a lucky 
pitcher is better than ” 

“But there’s a limit to luck,” Marty cried. 
“Next time they would take his scalp in an inning. 


220 


BROKEN HARNESS 


He was tumbling all over the place Saturday.” 

“Don’t you give him any credit,” Danny asked 
in a low tone, “for having pulled himself together 
the way he did?” 

At that Marty whipped around and walked 
away. What was the use, he thought, of bandy- 
ing words with a boy who thought he knew it all? 

By the time the squad went back to the locker 
room Marty had overcome his anger. Tuesday 
night he and Danny sat down to plan next day’s 
game against Franklin. 

“Let’s get this thing straight,” said Danny. 
“I’m going to start Jerome against Franklin, 
and if he does well I’m going to send him after 
that last Monroe game.” 

Marty blinked. “Two games in four days, 
Cap?” he asked mildly. 

“I don’t mean it that way,” said Danny. “I’m 
going to work him four innings to-morrow. Then 
we’ll take him out no matter how he is going. If 
he can pitch four innings well, it will be the mak- 
ing of this nine, because when we take him out 
there will be nothing against him, and Saturday 


221 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


he’ll have the confidence of the entire team.” 

“If he is pitching well,” Marty argued, “why 
not let him go to the finish?” 

“I want to keep him fresh for Saturday’s game.” 

“But look here, Cap. If we’re ahead and you 
take him out, and then we lose, this nine would 
go higher than a kite.” 

“It wouldn’t. It would say we’d have won if 
Jerry had stayed. That will make confidence. I 
simply want this nine to find out how good he is. 
They’ll start with him against Monroe just where 
they leave off with him against Franklin.” 

Marty was incredulous. “This doesn’t look 
good to me,” he complained. 

“It looks mighty good to me,” Danny insisted. 
“Out he comes after the fourth inning.” 

“All right,” Marty agreed in a resigned void|t 
“You’re the doctor. If I were the boss I’d either 
pitch him the whole distance or save him'.alt<^ 
gether.” ' ^ 

“Just let’s see how the game works my 
Danny pleaded. He wished that he could surren£ 
der to Marty, but he felt that if he did give in, 


222 


BROKEN HARNESS 


he would be sacrificing the success of the team for 
the sake of peace. He wasn’t a boy who liked to 
fight for fight’s sake. Once he had always been 
ready to mix things up, but that day was passed. 
He knew that some fellows — fellows who did not 
understand — would say that he had always crossed 
the coach. However, that could not be helped. 
It had happened that he had seen things from a 
different angle, and he had not felt that he could 
give in where he knew he was right. 

Next day Jerome went in against Franklin in 
a far calmer frame of mind than he had been in 
the previous Saturday. Fortune favored him, too. 
He found Franklin eager to wipe out her previous 
defeat. Her players began hitting at anything, 
and Jerome kept feeding them curves. Thus, in 
the first two innings, not one of Franklin’s players 
reached first base. Manor Hall had succeeded in 
getting Danny to third, but the captain had not 
scored. 

In the fourth inning Franklin switched her tac- 
tics and began to wait the pitcher out. Before 
Jerome woke up to what was happening he 


223 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


had three balls on the first batter and no 
strikes. 

“Now,” muttered Marty, “watch this bird wob- 
ble.” 

The nine felt a trifle uneasy, too. But Jerome, 
calmly attending to the business in hand, pitched 
two strikes. The batter swung at the next pitch, 
and was thrown out by Lee. 

“One gone,” Cross chirped cheerily. “That’s a 
boy, Jerry.” 

The next two batters were quickly retired. It 
had begun to drizzle. When Danny came to the 
bench he said to Marty: 

“Have Orth warm up King. Next inning is 
Jerry’s last.” 

Manor did not score. Jerome went out to pitch 
the fourth inning. 

The ball was now slippery. But at that Jerome 
issued only one pass. He was not hit safely. He 
struck out the last man. As he started for the 
bench Danny ran forward and started in with him. 

“We’re going to take you out, Jerry,” he said. 

The pitcher’s face fell. “Why, what’s wrong?” 


224 


BROKEN HARNESS 


“I’m saving you for Monroe,” said Danny. 

The boy gave a little squeak of delight. They 
came to the bench. Danny ran his eyes over the 
substitutes. There, among the lot, sat Orth and 
King. 

Danny turned to Marty. ‘‘Did they warm 
up?” he asked. 

“No,” Marty answered. “I thought it would 
be a fine thing for the nine to win to-day. Jerry 
is going good and ” 

“Didn’t we talk this whole thing over last 
night?” Danny demanded. 

Every fellow’s eyes were now on the captain and 
the coach. Some of the players breathed with an 
effort. 

“Now, Cap,” Marty soothed, “this is a no-score 
game so far and we had better keep Jerome where 
he is. We can’t afford to lose ” 

“We talked this over last night,” Danny said 
again. He had to hold himself in check. To have 
Marty throw him down that way sent the hot 
blood to his head. “Warm up,” he said to King. 
“I want you to start the sixth.” 


225 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


All along the bench there was suppressed ex- 
citement. Franklin was waiting in the field. The 
ball was wetter now. Danny saw that he would 
have to say something more to relieve the tension. 

“Here!” he called. “I want bunts. They’ll 
fall all over themselves handling that ball. 
They’re bound to slip as they run. Lay it on the 
ground, Tal.” 

Talmage placed a bunt along the third-base line. 
Third-baseman slipped when he tried to stop his 
rush for the ball, and the batter was safe. 

“That’s the ticket,” Danny cried. “Everybody 
bunt.” 

Three runs came in before the side was retired. 
Jerome went out. 

“Easy,” Danny cautioned. “Just put it over 
and trust to us. That ball’s too wet to curve. 
Lay it over, Jerry.” 

Jerome did as he was told. Three Franklin 
boys tried hard, but their hits went straight at 
Green and White fielders. Jerome ran toward 
the gym leaving behind a game that was 3 to o 
in his favor. 


226 


BROKEN HARNESS 


And that three run lead, even though King was 
touched up a bit, was enough to win the game. 
The nine crowded into the locker room flushed 
with success. Yet there was an atmosphere of 
worry about the place. 

Danny had been vindicated. The game had 
gone as he had planned. He should have been 
glad. Instead he was miserable. After that clash 
on the bench nothing would pull the wool over the 
eyes of the fellows. Coach and captain were not 
pulling together, and the whole squad knew. 


CHAPTER XI 

A VOICE FROM THE YARD 

D ANNY was not the only person who left 
the gym feeling sick and sore in spirit 
Marty Black went to his lodgings with 
the conviction that baseball affairs at Manor Hall 
were trembling on their foundations. After sup- 
per he sent a message across the Yard that he 
wanted to see Danny. The captain arrived half 
an hour later. 

“I made a bad play to-day,” the coach said 
frankly, “and I want to talk it over with you.” 

“I don’t mind what happened so much,” Danny 
replied just as frankly. “But how is this going to 
affect the players?” 

“That’s why I sent for you,” said Marty. 
Danny almost gasped. The coach worrying 


228 


A VOICE FROM THE YARD 


about how the fellows would feel was a sight new 
to him. Yet, seeing Marty in such a state of 
mind, he was only too eager to meet him half 
way. 

“It’s this way,” Marty went on. “I thought 
it was a mistake to take Jerome out, and I think 
so yet. But I should have kept my mouth closed. 
Instead, I shot off my ideas, and then every bird 
on that bench began to stick out his eyes. Now, 
that won’t do.” 

“Of course it won’t,” said Danny. 

“I’m not worrying about your end, Cap. Just 
between me and you — no quarrelling, but just 
speaking truthful — I think you’ve messed up things 
quite a bit here and there. But the rules of the 
school make you boss, so all I can do is to sit back 
and let you go ahead. No offense, now.” 

“Of course not,” Danny said stiffly. What 
was coming next, he wondered. 

“Everything I’ve suggested,” Marty continued, 
“you’ve thrown down. If that’s the way all the 
captains have worked with Craig it’s no wonder 
this school has been cleaned up. Well, things ran 


229 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


along until this afternoon. Then, when I saw the 
way that game was going, I decided the best thing 
was to win it and give the team more heart. I 
didn’t make any mistake in thinking that way. I 
made my mistake in saying what I thought. Get 
me, Cap?” 

“I do,” said Danny. 

“Now, I’m pretty anxious to win that next game. 
It means a lot to me. I won’t be here next year, 
but if I can leave here with the record of having 
won, I’ll have a chance to coach another school 
next spring. That’s the reason I sent for you. 
Your end of the game doesn’t worry me at all, 
Cap. If you lose the game you’ll worry for a day 
or two and then forget it. But it’s bread and 
butter to me. Understand?” 

“I understand.” 

“If I wasn’t looking for something for next 
spring I’d tell you to fish or cut bait. Personally 
I think things would have gone better if you had 
left matters to me. I was playing baseball when 
you were spinning a top. However, you’re the 
doctor. If you mix bad medicine, why, you’re the 


230 


A VOICE FROM THE YARD 


one that has to take it. But I object to having 
to swallow some, too.” 

Danny stared at his fingernails and said nothing. 

“I tell you these things, Cap, so you’ll see where 
we stand. In public we must pull together. Isn’t 
that right?” 

“Right,” said Danny. 

“Well, from now until Saturday we must make 
a great fuss of each other whenever we meet. 
And we had better begin fussing to-night. What 
do you think of that?” 

Had any other Manor Hall captain, Danny 
thought, ever listened to such a speech? He un- 
derstood Marty’s position thoroughly. Marty 
thought him a swell-headed, conceited kid with too 
much authority for his own good. Loyalty to the 
school cut no figure at all in the coach’s desire for 
peace. Yet, regardless of the reason, Danny was 
glad of the chance to wear the mask of good fel- 
lowship. Even though they looked at things from 
different angles, he and the coach had much in 
common. 

“Suppose we go out now,” the boy suggested, 


23 1 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“and go to the candy shop for ice cream. There’s 
always a bunch of fellows there, and they’ll spread 
the news that we’re chumming.” 

Marty reached for his cap. “That’s the ticket,” 
he said. 

They had to pass the Yard to reach the candy 
shop, and there they lingered long enough to have 
a goodly number of the fellows see them. Later, 
as they ate their ice cream, students of the Green 
and White nudged each other and whispered, and 
went back to the dormitory building to spread the 
news. Shortly after nine o’clock the man and the 
boy separated. 

“No hard feelings, Cap,” said Marty. “I just 
told you how this whole game looks to me. Just 
the same, you can count on me to work hard to 
land a winner. I have my reasons for wanting to 
see this nine wallop Monroe on the nose.” 

“I understand,” said Danny. “Give me a win- 
ner. That’s all I ask.” 

“Me too,” said Marty. 

Dutton and Cross were in the room when Danny 
returned to the dormitory building. They looked 


232 


A VOICE FROM THE YARD 


at him expectantly, but the captain gave no infor- 
mation. Finally Cross asked: 

“Were you and Marty at the candy shop?” 

Danny nodded. “Of course we were. Why 
not?” 

Cross looked bewildered. “I thought after that 

scrap on the bench ” 

'“Scrap!” cried Danny. “Because Marty for 
once happens to think one way and I think another 
is that a scrap? You’re getting to be a regular 
calamity howler.” 

Cross switched his questions. “How about the 
Monroe game?” he asked eagerly. “Will Jerry 
work?” 

“What did Jerry say?” the cautious Danny 
asked. 

“Huh!” grunted the first-baseman. “Told me 
to see you. But I got the hunch he was keeping 
something back.” 

“I don’t know who will pitch,” said the captain. 
If Jerome was keeping the news quiet, what was 
the use of letting things out? Maybe the boy had 
a reason for holding a still tongue. 


233 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


At the door Cross paused with his hand on the 
knob. “Then everything is all right between you 
and Marty, isn’t it?” 

“There was nothing wrong,” Danny answered, 
“only for a moment.” 

The door opened and closed, and Cross was 
gone. Dutton grunted. 

“Tell that to the marines,” he invited. 

“Tell what?” the captain demanded. 

“That you and Marty have patched things up. 
What did he say to you?” 

“He read the riot act,” Danny confessed. “He 
told me he thought I was throwing sand in the 
machinery, but that he’d pull with me to the finish 
because he wanted a winner for the sake of his 
record. He wants to land another school for next 
spring.” 

“What does he think you are?” Dutton burst 
out. 

“He thinks I’m a fresh kid with too much to 
say.” 

Dutton rubbed one finger across a calloused 
spot on his right hand. “Well,” he observed at 


234 


A VOICE FROM THE YARD 


last, “so long as he works with you for a winner 
nothing else should matter.” 

“It doesn’t,” said Danny. “I’m sorry things 
haven’t gone better. I guess I’m to blame for 
some things. Anyway, what I did do I thought 
was for the best.” 

“Maybe that’s what Marty thought when he did 
things,” Dutton nodded. “This has been a queer 
season. Everybody trying to help and everybody 
spilling the beans.” 

The deciding game of the series was to be 
played at Manor Hall. Thursday the practice 
started again. 

Now the work became a delicate problem. 
Here were boys who had reached a healthy speed, 
had slumped through over-confidence, and had 
then come back. How far they had come back 
was a question. Was it wise to still drive them 
and have them start the game tired, restless and 
worried? Or was it better to let them jog along 
easily, but at the same time do what work they 
did do with a seriousness of purpose? 

Danny took this problem to Marty. 


235 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Not too much work,” said the coach emphat- 
ically. “You can’t make them any better in two 
days. But they ought to get lots of practice at 
the bat. Anyway, a kid never thinks it’s work to 
hit against a pitcher. That’s play.” 

This time Danny accepted the man’s advice. 
Thursday the ’Varsity got a half-hour of fielding 
practice. The pitchers warmed up easily, even 
Jerome. Then the substitutes were sent to the 
field and the ’Varsity players came to the plate. 
Steele and King pitched. Jerome trotted off to 
the locker room. 

To the players and to Marty that settled one 
big question. Jerome was going to pitch. Cross 
grinned happily. Marty stared across the field 
with a clouded brow. 

The knowledge that Jerome would work did 
not depress the fellows to-day. He had beaten 
Monroe once, and he had repulsed Franklin for 
five innings. Why, he wasn’t the same Jerome at 
all. Danny heard whisperings such as these and 
grinned happily. His plan of campaign was going 
through. It had been good policy to take J erry out. 

236 


A VOICE FROM THE YARD 


He was still grinning cheerily when he returned 
to his room. He sat at the open window and 
stared down at the Yard. There were very few 
fellows in sight, and a peaceful quiet hung over 
the school grounds. He saw Marty come through 
the Yard and he saw him meet Pilgrim. Their 
voices carried up to the boy. 

“Well,” Pilgrim asked, “how goes it?” 

“It could go better,” said Marty. “Cap in- 
tends to pitch Jerome. I think he’s making a bad 
blunder. That fellow’s never been steady, and 
lately he’s been having a spell of luck. He is a 
wild ” 

The voices became fainter as the coach and the 
student member of the athletic committee moved 
away. Danny, at the window, shut his teeth hard. 

“What right has he to talk that way in the 
Yard?” he demanded angrily of himself. “Of 
course he was talking only to Pilgrim, but his voice 
carried straight up to my window. Somebody else 
might have heard him.” 

At supper Danny was still nettled. Dutton 
asked him a few questions, and his replies were 


237 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


short and snappy. The catcher opened his eyes. 

“What’s wrong, Danny ? Something bite you ?” 

“I’m thinking,” said the captain. 

“If that’s what it does to you,” Dutton advised, 
“you had better stop.” 

On the way out of the dining hall, Cross plucked 
at Danny’s sleeve. 

“I want to see you,” he whispered. 

“Come up to the room,” Danny invited. 

“Oh, come out to the Yard. It’s hot upstairs.” 

So they went out to the cool green. Cross 
linked arms with Danny. 

“You and Marty have another spill?” he asked. 

Danny stared. “No.” 

“You’re going to pitch Jerry, aren’t you?” 

“I am.” 

“Marty didn’t kick, did he?” 

“He said nothing to me.” 

The first-baseman stopped. “Then what’s 
Jerry talking about? He says that Marty thinks 
you’re making a bad blunder and that he had a 
lot of luck in his last few games — Hello! 
What’s the matter, Danny?” 


238 


A VOICE FROM THE YARD 


For the captain had caught him by the arm. 
“Did Jerry go straight to his room after leaving 
the practice?” 

“I guess he did. Why?” 

“Did he stay in his room?” 

“He was there when I came in. Why? 
What’s up?” 

“Nothing,” said Danny. “Jerry’s heard some- 
thing, that’s all.” 

“But what did he hear?” 

“He heard Marty tell all that to Pilgrim,” 
Danny cried desperately. “Jerry’s room is right 
over mine. Marty didn’t think anybody but Pil- 
grim would hear him, but I’ll bet a brass dollar 
right now that Jerry’s off his game again. I can 
talk control to Jerry for a week and he takes it 
right, but as soon as Marty speaks Jerry goes 
into the ditch.” 

Cross shook his head. “I — I wouldn’t say he 
was in the ditch this time, Danny, but ” 

“But what?” 

“He’s mighty close to the brink,” said the first- 
baseman. 


239 


CHAPTER XII 

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 

D ANNY had spoken the truth. No matter 
how well Jerome might be going, Marty 
was able to upset him completely. It 
seemed to be one of those rare cases that cannot 
be argued away. It just happened. Let Marty 
say, “Too high there, Jerry,” in that tired, de- 
spairing voice he could adopt on occasion, and no 
one knew where the pitcher would throw the ball 
on his next attempt. 

The captain did not dare go up for a talk with 
Jerome. Perhaps the boy would come around 
after a night’s sleep. So Danny cautioned Cross 
not to discuss baseball with the pitcher. 

“You just bet I won’t,” said Cross. 

Danny didn’t get any too much comfort out 


240 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


of the fact that Jerry was on the brink but had 
not yet toppled. On the brink, he thought, was 
plenty bad enough. In a game as important as 
the deciding battle with Monroe a pitcher wanted 
to be right. Not almost right, but right. Almosts 
wouldn’t do, and on the brink was a pretty bad 
case of almost. A fellow on the brink might give 
an extra hit or an extra base on balls. And either 
that extra hit or that extra base on balls might 
spell defeat. 

Danny came back to the room. Dutton was at 
his study table, fussing with the spikes of his base- 
ball shoes. 

“Well,” he observed, “your walk with Cress 
didn’t do you much good.” 

Danny started. “Why?” 

“You look grouchier than when you were at 
supper. What’s wrong? Anything the matter 
with Jerome?” 

The captain forced a laugh. “Nix! He’s all 
right. I’m worrying, Dut. I guess this Monroe 
game is on my nerves.” 

“Take a warm bath,” the catcher advised, “and 


241 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


go to bed. There’s one thing sure. I wouldn’t 
captain a team at this school for love or 
money.” 

“The next time a fellow talks captain to me,” 
Danny flared, “I’ll punch him in the nose.” 

There was morning practice next day — just a 
light, breezy drill. The pitchers worked a little 
while, and Jerome showed a falling off. It was 
not much, to be sure, but it was enough to send 
Dutton to Danny. 

“Come over and watch Jerry,” he invited. 

Danny shook his head. “Not now, Dut. I 
know what you mean. Send him to the locker 
room.” 

And there, half an hour later, the captain found 
the pitcher. The boy was dressing quietly. 

“Anything wrong?” Danny asked. 

“Same old story,” said Jerome. 

Danny pretended surprise. “What now?” 

“Marty said in the Yard last night — ” The 
boy swallowed hard. “He didn’t mean that he 
should be heard, I guess, but I was at my window. 
He was talking to Pilgrim, and he said I wouldn’t 


242 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


do for Monroe, and that you were making a mis- 
take, and that my last two games were luck.” 

“And you’re worrying about that?” Danny de- 
manded, as though surprised. 

Jerome nodded. 

“Oh, look here,” the captain cried. “You’ve 
already beaten Monroe in one game, and you held 
Franklin right in your hand. That ought to give 
you confidence.” 

“It should,” Jerome admitted. “What’s the 
matter with Marty? What hold has he on me? 
As soon as he starts to criticise I wilt.” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“Perhaps not. But Marty has been in baseball 
so long. He has seen so many pitchers. He ought 
to know if a fellow can pitch or not.” 

Now Danny was angry. “Isn’t it possible for 
Marty to make a mistake?” he cried. 

“Maybe,” said Jerome. “But when he’s always 
knocking me — Why doesn’t he sometimes say a 
good word for me, Danny?” 

“He says lots of them,” the captain said stoutly. 
“You get dressed and forget this foolishness.” 


243 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


The pitcher’s words had given the captain a 
new thought. The boy complained that Marty 
never said a good word. Suppose the coach would 
give a bit of praise? 

Jerome was on his way to the door. Danny 
walked with him. 

“You come back this afternoon, Jerry,” he said. 
“Another easy warm up for about ten minutes 
won’t hurt you.” 

“All right,” said Jerome. 

When the rest of the squad came in to dress 
Danny was still in uniform. The captain took 
Marty aside. 

“Wait in,” he whispered. “I want to talk to 
you after the fellows go.” 

“About what?” 

“Jerome.” 

Marty lifted his eyes. “Getting wise to him, 
Cap? He didn’t have much this morning.” 

“I know it,” said Danny. Under his breath he 
added: “And I know why.” 

Cross was the last player to go. He stared 
back at Danny and the coach, hesitated, and finally 
244 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


went reluctantly through the doorway. Instantly 
Marty turned to Danny: 

“Well, Cap?” 

“You had a talk with Pilgrim last night in the 
Yard. Jerome heard every word you said.” 

Marty knitted his brows. “I had a talk with 
Pilgrim? Oh, yes. Well, what about it?” 

“That’s what has thrown Jerome off. He’s 
worried.” 

“About what?” 

“About you not having confidence in him.” 

“I haven’t,” Marty admitted candidly. 

Danny bit his lips. “Look here, Marty, 
whether you have or not, that’s no reason for you 
to talk freely where somebody might hear you. 
It’s all right to tell Pilgrim. He’s on the athletic 
committee and knows enough to keep his mouth 
shut. But to say these things so that you’re over- 
heard ” 

“Look here, Cap,” Marty cried; “you’re all 
wrong on this. Why should he be worried about 
what I think? Does he expect everybody to be- 
lieve he’s a wonder? Why, look at presidential 


245 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


elections. Maybe almost two million people vote 
against the man who wins. Does that stop him 
taking office ?” 

“This is different,” Danny argued. “He says 
you’ve seen pitchers enough to know a good one 
or a bad one. That’s why he’s worried.” 

“Too bad there aren’t a few more people who 
think I know a pitcher when I see one,” Marty 
hinted. 

Danny walked over to the lockers and shut one 
or two that had been carelessly left open. He 
came back to the coach. 

“You want this game won for your record,” 
he said earnestly. “Then the thing for you to do 
is to get this nine in shape, every man of it. What 
you think of Jerome is out of the question. A 
few good words from you would help him a lot.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“He said so. I’m going to pitch Jerome, and 
that’s settled. It seems to me that the best thing 
you could do would be to give him some heart.” 

“All right, Cap. If your mind’s made up to 
use him I’ll do what I can. Want me to see him?” 


246 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


“He’ll be out this afternoon for a ten-minute 
warm up. You take him.” 

Marty nodded slowly. “All right. But don’t 
blame me if his screws are loose.” 

The coach was really desirous of helping the 
pitcher. But then again he was one of those 
men who, no matter what happens, see but one 
side. He had a single point of view. 

Now he tried to change his viewpoint. The 
spirit was there, and for a while he quite con- 
vinced himself that it would be easy to make 
Jerome believe that all was well. But soon came 
doubts to his mind. All he could picture was a 
series of wild deliveries from the pitcher. That 
sort of thinking soon had him back in the mental 
rut. 

Yet, when he came to the field that afternoon he 
told himself that he was really helping the captain. 
He felt a sense of pleasure, too, in the thought 
that if anybody was to make Jerome effective, he 
was the only person who could do the job thor- 
oughly. 

Once the players were at the stations, Marty 


247 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


went in to the bench. He did not want to come 
right down on Jerome and call for deliveries. 
That might look as though he was making a raid 
upon the boy. He sat on the bench and watched 
Jerome as he talked to Steele and King. 

They were a clean, set-up lot, these three pitch- 
ers. Steele and King knew that Jerry would pitch, 
but they showed no resentment. They were his 
companions of the Green and White nine. It was 
his fortune to pitch the game. They sincerely 
wished him well. 

On Marty the comradeship of the three was lost. 
He admired the sturdy width of King’s shoul- 
ders and wished that that boy was going to the 
mound. He could not force himself to have 
faith in Jerry. He suffered an absolute lack 
of confidence in anything that Jerome might 
do. 

When he thought the time was ripe, he went out 
with a big mitt under his arm. He nodded to 
Steele and King. He spoke to Jerry. 

“Throw me a few,” he invited. 

They went off a short distance. Jerome, with 
248 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


the knowledge that Marty didn’t want him to 
pitch, began rather wildly. 

‘‘Here!” Marty called. “This is the pan. 
Now, stick it over just where I hold my glove.” 

Jerome sent one in exactly on the spot, but it 
was a straight ball. 

“They’d lace that a mile,” said Marty. “When 
you’re in the hole don’t put one over the exact 
middle, or good-by. Put something on it.” 

Jerome tried to throw a cross-fire. In his agi- 
tation he got them too far on the outside corner. 
Marty kept telling him that he’d have to do bet- 
ter than that. But Jerome did no better. 

“I’m going to call them on you,” the coach 
warned. 

He was handling the boy with more considera- 
tion than he had ever shown him. But his efforts 
were completely missing fire. Had he kept up a 
genial “Come on, Jerry; you’ll get going right in a 
moment. Try a little harder this time. You have 
the stuff. Make it be good,” the result would 
probably have been different. But to Marty’s 
mind that was a mollycoddle method. He did not 


249 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


believe in it. A pitcher either had the stuff or he 
didn’t, and if he didn’t have it and you refrained 
from announcing that fact, you did him a wonder- 
ful kindness by not bawling him out. 

Danny wandered over just about the time that 
Marty began to call balls and strikes. He could 
see that the session had not done the pitcher any 
good. He heard Marty say, “There’s a base on 
balls,” and a moment later, “There’s four balls 
again.” 

Danny saw that he must put a stop to this. 
Fearful lest he should cause trouble by immedi- 
ately calling a halt, he stood beside Marty for a 
few minutes. Then he sent Jerome over to where 
the players were getting their last batting prac- 
tice. 

Marty shook his head mournfully. “Cap,” he 
said, “I hope the Monroe coach doesn’t tell his 
nine to wait that bird out. He won’t get one ball 
out of three over.” 

The practice was soon stopped. The boys were 
sent to the locker room for their shower baths. 
Danny and Marty walked in slowly. 


250 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


“Well,” said the coach, “I tried to encourage 
him, but I don’t see as it did any good.” 

Dutton, Cross and Danny walked back across 
the Yard. They sat on the dormitory steps. By 
this time Dutton had smelled that something was 
wrong. Danny confessed to him what it was that 
had upset Jerome. 

“So Marty was to encourage him to-day, eh?” 
the catcher asked. “I wonder what he calls en- 
couragement?” 

Cross laughed. 

“I wonder,” he echoed. 

Dutton suddenly stared across the Yard. “I 
have an idea,” he said thoughtfully. “I catch 
Jerry, and he takes some stock in what I say. 
Suppose I room with him to-night. Cross can take 
my bed. I could talk to him about how good he 
is. Oh, I’m some talker when I get going. Of 
course, nothing might come of it. But then, again, 
perhaps he’d begin to think that I knew something 
worth while.” 

Cross was enthusiastic for the plan. They went 
upstairs. Dutton took from his bureau some 


251 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


things he would need. They walked up another 
flight of stairs to Cross’s room. 

Jerome was there. He stared curiously as Dut- 
ton dropped his things on a bed. 

“Well, old sledge hammer, I’m going to sleep 
with you to-night,” the catcher cried. 

“What for?” the pitcher asked. 

“We’ll talk over Monroe’s batters. Danny has 
Marty’s score-book downstairs. We ought to be 
able to dope out what to pitch to each of those 
fellows, eh?” 

“We ought to,” Jerome said eagerly. “Where 
will Cross go? With Danny?” 

Cross nodded. “That’s the idea. And Danny 
and I will make up schemes to trap Monroe’s base 
runners. Say, this is team-work, isn’t it?” 

“And then some,” said Danny. 

The nine that night, for the first time since the 
season opened, was to eat by itself. There was 
no baseball training table at Manor Hall. But 
usually, the night before a deciding game, 
tables were set in a little ante-room off from 
the main dining hall, and there the players took 
252 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


their supper. To this meal the coach always 
came. 

Danny and Cross, as they came downstairs after 
leaving Dutton could hear the clatter of these ta- 
bles being put into position. To-night the first 
bell would call the students to their usual meal. 
A second bell would summon the baseball players. 

When that second bell rang there was a rush 
for the ante-room. Jerome came down feeling 
better already because of the cheery presence of 
Dutton, but still nervous and jerky. Most of the 
fellows sensed that he was rocky, but they attrib- 
uted this to the fact that he was worrying about 
the morrow. One and all began to relate how he 
had defeated Meade, how he had stopped Mon- 
roe, how he had held Franklin safe. None spoke 
louder or more loyally than King and Steele. 

Marty, arriving late, came in while the chorus 
of praise was at its highest. He ate in silence and 
listened. Suddenly Baggs turned to him. 

“How about it, Marty? What do you think?” 

“Well,” said Marty with the air of a man 
who had given the problem great thought, “if he’ll 


253 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


stick them over the plate and not go up in the air — 
There’s your answer. It all depends upon what 
Jerry does.” 

Now, if there was one thing in the world that 
should not have been said to the pitcher in his 
present state of mind, wildness was that one thing. 
Every fellow at the table knew this, and so did 
Danny. 

To the captain it seemed that despite all his 
pretensions Marty was determined to have the 
Green and White lose this game. In this thought, 
of course, Danny did the coach a grave wrong. 
But Marty’s words had come as the final blow 
upon nerves already strained to a snapping ten- 
sion. Danny completely forgot himself. He saw 
red just as he used to in the days before he came 
up to school. Indignation burned through his 
veins. He sprang to his feet. 

“Don’t you know any better than to talk like 
that?” he cried angrily. “I thought you had some 
sense.” 

Baggs moved quietly in his chair. Cross start- 
ed a low whistle and quickly stopped it. The 


254 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


rest of the fellows were momentarily stunned. 

During that moment Danny’s sanity returned. 
It wasn’t his nature to talk disrespectfully to his 
elders. 

“I beg your pardon, Marty,” he said miserably. 
“I didn’t mean that.” 

But Marty had also come to his feet. He was 
leaning across the table and anger showed plainly 
in his face. He wasn’t going to take talk like 
that from a swell-headed schoolboy. He said 
as much, too, and a few of the players gasped. 

“I’ve said I’m sorry,” Danny broke in. “I’m 
ashamed of myself, too. Let’s go out in the hall 
and talk this over.” 

“We’ll talk it over here,” said Marty. 

And right there Marty Black made the mis- 
take of his life. He had seen Danny’s hot tem- 
per sputter over, and he had seen the boy quickly 
cool off. An argument, he thought, could go only 
one way, and that his way. From the way things 
shaped up now there were likely to be clashes of 
authority before the last man was out to-morrow, 
and right here and now Marty decided that he’d 


255 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


settle the question of who was boss. He wanted 
to run that deciding Monroe game. Now was 
the time to show the squad how weak and vain- 
glorious their captain was. 

‘‘This isn’t the place for an argument,” Danny 
pleaded. 

“We’ll talk this thing right out before the play- 
ers,” Marty repeated stubbornly. “We’ll let them 
see what’s what.” 

Danny turned cold. If he walked out of the 
room without a word Marty, left behind, might 
harangue the players and knock things out com- 
pletely. There was only one path open to him. 
He would have to stay. 

“All right,” he said. “We’ll talk this out and 
settle matters. But first I’m sorry I spoke hastily. 
I apologize again.” 

“Does that mean,” Marty asked, “that you are 
going to let go and run this thing as it should be 
run the rest of the season?” 

“If you mean,” Danny answered slowly, “that 
I am going to sacrifice this nine to you, you are 
mistaken. I am responsible for it, and while I 
256 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


admit that I do not know one-third the baseball 
that you know, yet I understand these fellows bet- 
ter. If I felt that it would do the slightest good 
to this nine to resign and get out, I would do it 
in a minute.” 

“You stay where you are,” Baggs said dis- 
tinctly. 

Danny shook his head. He didn’t want the 
players mixing into this. 

“I know it wouldn’t do any good to have me 
resign,” he said. “It would only jumble matters. 
So long as I am captain I am going to stick to 
my responsibility. I’m going to see things 
through. And this nine is going to win.” 

“Not if you pitch Jerome,” said Marty, now 
quite oblivious to anything but the scrap with 
Danny. 

The pitcher shivered. King laid a hand on 
Jerome’s shoulder — the steady hand of true friend- 
ship. 

“There you go,” Danny cried, this time with 
heat, “picking at Jerome again. That shows ex- 
actly what the trouble is and has been. If I felt 


257 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


that there was any man on this nine that I didn’t 
want to have play good ball, I’d feel that I ought 
not to have the job.” 

“Do you mean that I don’t want to see Jerome 
pitch good ball?” 

“I don’t know what to think. All along there 
has been a feeling that you didn’t want Jerome to 
pitch. It made no difference to you whether he 
worked a good game or a poor game. Now I’m 
for winning the Monroe series with any pitcher, 
and I know, as does everybody else here, that 
Jerome is the hardest man to hit that we have.” 

“When he gets them over,” Marty amended. 

“He gets them over when he pitches to me or 
to Dutton. He’s in shape now ” 

“After the way he showed this morning?” 

“He’s in shape,” Danny insisted. “You did 
your best to knock the confidence out of him, and 
that made me mad.” 

“I tried to give him confidence,” Marty an- 
swered hotly. “You asked me to go out to-day 
and put some heart into him.” 

“And how did you do it?” Danny cried. “By 
258 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


calling balls on him with an air that said that you 
thought he was hopeless. If that is your way of 
getting a pitcher in shape for Monroe I wonder 
how Jerome can put anything on a ball.” 

“He can’t put much on it and get it anywhere,” 
Marty flashed back. 

“To-morrow will answer that,” came from 
Danny. 

The coach leaned across the table. “You mean 
that Jerome starts to-morrow no matter what I 
say?” 

“That’s what I mean,” the captain answered 
after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m mighty sorry 
we can’t agree, but I have the responsibility, and 
my judgment says to pitch him. He came out all 
right before in the pinch, and he’ll pull us through 
to-morrow.” 

“All right, Cap, that settles it.” Marty turned 
sharply from the table. “I’m through.” 

Danny’s lips went white. “Just a minute,” he 
cried. Do you mean that you resign?” 

“That’s what I mean. I resign. I quit. I’ll 
either run this nine or you’ll run it.” 


259 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


‘Til run it, thank you,” Danny said slowly. “I 
accept all the responsibility. I’m sorry you’re 
going, and I may as well tell you that I don’t 
think much of the way you’ve quit on me.” 

Marty passed down the length of the table and 
out into the hall. He slammed the door behind 
him. They heard his footsteps echo, at first 
sharply, then fainter and fainter. At last their 
noise ceased. 

Jerome stood up a bit unsteadily. “Danny!” 
he said. 

The captain ran around to him. “All right, 
Jerry. Don’t let this upset you.” 

The boy blinked his eyes. “You and Marty 
have broken,” he said. “It’s all on account of me. 
You’ve stood for me. You’ve been standing for 
me all season. Now I want to make you a prom- 
ise. I’ll go in to-morrow and — and ” 

“All right, Jerry,” said Danny. “You’ll pitch 
your head off for me, won’t you?” 

“And then some,” said the boy. 

After that every fellow was on his feet. They 
crowded around Danny. They told him that they 


260 


THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 


would back him up, that the Monroe game would 
be theirs. 

“Of course we’ll win,” the captain cried. 
“Come on, let’s eat. We can talk while we eat.” 

They went back to their places at the table. 
But now their vigorous appetites were gone. They 
toyed with their food. They stole glances at each 
other. Nobody spoke. 


CHAPTER XIII 

RESTORING CONFIDENCE 

I T did not take Danny long to determine that 
this clash with Marty Black had broken his 
baseball machine into small pieces. With a 
few of the players the coach had never been popu- 
lar. Others he had alienated. Nevertheless, they 
felt his loss. They were boys; he was a man 
with big-league experience, and in the main it had 
been comforting to have him on the bench. 

Several times the captain tried to start conver- 
sation. Cross or Baggs or Dutton strove man- 
fully to say something, but always the voices died 
away and the restless silence came again. At last 
Danny could stand the strain no longer. He stood 
up at his place. 

“Fellows!” he said. 


262 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


They all looked at him. Worried shadows lay 
on several faces. 

“You’ve heard what Marty had to say. He 
thinks that Jerry won’t do. But that doesn’t mean 
that Jerry won’t do. It’s only what Marty thinks. 
All through the season he’s thought that way. Yet 
Jerry has been getting better all the time.” 

“Correct,” Steele called. “He was the only 
one who held Monroe in the first game.” 

“And he won the second,” King added. 

“And he tied Franklin into knots,” Dutton 
chimed in. “I know. I was catching him.” 

“There !” cried Danny. “You see what they 
think of him, the fellows who should know, the 
pitchers and the catchers. We’re going to pitch 
him to-morrow, and I want to tell you now that 
Monroe will not hit him. More than that, he’s 
going to put the ball over the plate. He’s not 
going to pass men. I know he was off this morn- 
ing. But you don’t want to forget this — he has 
been off every time Marty caught him. He has 
been afraid of Marty. He shouldn’t have been, 
but he has been all along. How about it, Jerry?” 

263 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


The pitcher nodded. “It — it was that speech 
when we had our meeting — about losing games 
last year through passing men and about him hav- 
ing our records/’ 

“Now, it’s up to us to field a good game behind 
Jerry,” the captain urged. “If we support him 
he’ll do his part.” 

“Of course he will,” cried King. 

“So it comes down to a question of our hit- 
ting. This nine has shown a good many times 
that it can hit, that it has no tail end to its bat- 
ting list, and that it has no players who are much 
given to striking out. We can outbat Monroe. 
We didn’t hit Maxim that first time, but we weren’t 
in shape to hit anybody. We were all puffed up 
with our own importance. To-morrow we will 
expect a fight, and we’ll be prepared.” 

“You bet we will,” cried Cross. 

“Then we have another advantage. The game 
is to be played here. Everything favors us. And 
I want to remind you outfielders that it hasn’t 
rained in two weeks. The ground is hard and 
baked out. The balls will bound hard and come 


264 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


fast. Don’t let them get by you. Stop them with 
your bodies if you must, but don’t let them get 
past. Don’t let Monroe get extra Eases.” 

The outfielders nodded. 

Danny stared about the tables. “I — I guess 
that’s all, fellows. Stand behind Jerry. He’ll 
win for us. And now a good, big, rousing cheer 
for Manor Hall.” 

The cheer was given. In the general dining hall 
the students heard and whispered that the ninq 
felt good. 

Farrell, the right-fielder, came to Danny as soon 
as the meal was over. 

“I thought something like this would happen,” 
he whispered. “I think you did the right thing.” 

“How will the players take it?” Danny asked 
anxiously. 

“That’s not the question. The nine will pull 
itself together if it’s left alone. But how will the 
school take it?” 

Half an hour later Danny knew. The news of 
the break buzzed through the dormitory build- 
ing from room to room. From the corridors came 

265 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


the sound of clamoring voices. Next the students 
were out in the Yard. Marty Black gone on the 
eve of the big game? Impossible. 

But Pilgrim, when they came to him with 
questions, said nervously that Marty was through. 
Had he had a row with Danny? Pilgrim 
mopped his face with a handkerchief and said yes, 
that there had been a row. And at the the stu- 
dents stared at each other aghast. What, they 
asked, was Danny thinking about? What had bit- 
ten him? 

Keating, as editor of The Greenie and moulder 
of school opinion, was soon surrounded by breath- 
less, excited boys. Had he heard anything? 

“I haven’t,” he said. “But there’s one thing 
I’ll take a guess at. This row wasn’t Danny’s 
fault by a long shot.” 

Somebody suggested that they go up and see 
Danny. A delegation stormed the dormitory stair- 
ways. But Danny, hearing them coming, waved 
a weary hand at Cross. 

“Lock that door,” he said. 

Cross turned the key. Danny lowered the light. 


266 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


When the knuckles of students beat a tattoo on the 
door there was no response. Finally they went 
away. Later a faint tap sounded. 

“That’s Dutton,” said Danny. 

Cross let in the catcher. Dutton came only a 
few feet into the room. 

“I can’t stay,” he said. U I want to get back 
to him. Some fool was up there asking him if 
he wasn’t the cause of the split. That settled 
Jerry good and proper. He’s walking the floor 
now and groaning that he’s done nothing all sea- 
son but cause worry, and that the school will 
blame him for everything.” 

“You tell him for me — ” Danny began, and 
stopped. “Oh, I don’t know what to tell him. 
Tell him anything. If this keeps up we’ll have 
to pitch King or Steele whether we want to or 
not.” 

Dutton departed. Danny and Cross sat in the 
room and stared at the walls. Eight o’clock 
sounded. A few minutes later another tap sound- 
ed on the door. 

“It’s Pilgrim,” a voice whispered. 

267 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Again Cross opened the door. The light was 
still turned low. The student member of the ath- 
letic committee peered about the room. 

“Where’s Danny?” he asked. 

“Here !” Danny answered. 

“Craig wants you.” 

“Craig!” Danny bounded out of his chair. 
“Is Craig back? When did he get back? Where 
is he?” 

“Ssh!” warned Pilgrim. “Nobody knows he’s 
back yet. He’s in my room. He wants you.” 

Pilgrim’s room was one floor down. Danny 
took the stairs two at a time. He stalked in and 
closed the door, and stood with his back against it. 

Craig was there. There could be no doubt of 
that. The old coach sat over by the window. 
The flush of health was in his cheeks, the hollows 
were gone, his eyes were bright. 

“Well,” said the man, “aren’t you glad to see 
me?” 

“Glad?” Danny burst out. “Oh, Craig I can- 
not tell you how glad I am. There’s been trouble 
here, and now I’m up to my neck.” 


268 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


The man pointed to a chair. “Bring that here, 
Danny, and sit down. You won the second Mon- 
roe game, and you stopped Franklin. You should 
be in good shape. But Pilgrim said something 
about a row with Marty Black. Is that so?” 

“Yes.” 

“Has Marty resigned?’* 

“Yes.” 

“What was the fight about?” 

“About Jerome. Marty’s been against Jerry 
all season, and ” 

“Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me 
the whole story,” Craig broke in. 

Soon Danny was deep in an explanation of the 
entire season’s happenings. The old coach sat 
thoughtfully listening to the history of the affair. 
Once in a while he muttered a soft “So !” but 
otherwise he let the captain go on uninterrupted. 

Finally, when Danny stopped for breath, just 
previous to his description of the final row, Craig 
said dryly: 

“What do you think the use of a coach is if 
the captain overrides him all the time?” 

269 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“I wasn’t overriding him, Craig.” 

“But that is the way it must have looked to 
the team and to Marty.” 

“I’m sure it didn’t,” Danny maintained stoutly. 
“I know that half the nine will tell you so. I 
suppose some of the fellows side with Marty ” 

“Hold on!” cried Craig. “I don’t like this 
business of taking sides. Have you an idea that 
coach and captain are like the captains of rival 
teams? If you get that idea in your head there 
is no hope for you either in school or in college.” 

Danny became embarrassed. “Of course I don’t 
think that. I know that coach and captain must 
pull together, but here was a case where we 
couldn’t pull.” 

“Was it your fault?” 

“Perhaps it was sometimes,” Danny admitted 
thoughtfully. “I know though that I did every- 
thing that I could. I only interfered when I 
thought it meant defeat if I didn’t.” 

“I don’t like that word ‘interfered,’ ” said 
Craig. “It has a bad sound. Marty Black is a 
man, and you’re only a boy.” 


270 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


“That — that’s what made half the trouble,” 
Danny gulped. “He thought I was a boy with too 
much authority. He went to the athletic commit- 
tee when I named the pitcher for the first game.” 

“You picked Jerome?” 

“Yes. You should have been here, Craig. 
Marty let Jerry see right from the start that he 
had no use for him. And a group of us — Dut- 
ton, Cross and me — jockeyed him every way until 
we brought him around. He’s pitched some great 
games. If he went out and gave a few hits and 
only one or two passes, Marty said he was lucky. 
If he passed a lot of men and pitched himself out 
of the holes, Marty said he was wild and gave 
him no credit for his heart.” 

“Does Jerry know of this row you and Marty 
had to-night?” 

“He was there.” 

Craig whistled softly. “How does he take it, 
Danny?” 

“He’s all broken up. Oh, Craig, you’ve just 
come back in time. You can straighten out Jerry 
and you can straighten out the nine.” 


271 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“So the fellows are upset, too, are they?” 

Danny nodded. “Yes. They speak with a 
brave mouth, but down in their shoes they’re shak- 
ing.” 

“Think it would do any good if I showed myself 
to-night?” 

“Good!” cried Danny. “Why the whole 
school is buzzing. I’m being rapped, and Jerry’s 
getting his. As soon as the nine sees you, it will 
forget its troubles. The school will stop condemn- 
ing. And unless I miss my guess Jerry will spruce 
up at once.” 

Craig stood up. “All right, Danny,” he said 
briskly; “I’ll come to the rescue. I came back 
for the game, not for trouble. As I reached the 
Yard I heard excited voices, and I knew that 
something was wrong. So I came quietly to Pil- 
grim’s room.” He laid his hand on Danny’s shoul- 
der. “I hate to think of you beginning your 
career as school captain in a row with a coach. 
That’s the worst thing you could do.” 

“But I never had a row with you, Craig?” 

“I don’t believe you ever will. We had a few 


272 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


upsets when you first came here, but I lay that 
to your red hair. And now, Danny, whether you 
were right or wrong, get it out of your head. 
Make a good big resolution never again to have 
trouble with a coach.” 

“I won’t if the coach is you,” said Danny. 

“You’re hopeless,” said Craig, but his voice 
was kind and gentle, as though he understood. 
“The big thing is to-morrow’s game. There must 
be no slipup anywhere. I’ll talk with some of the 
boys. Whatever you do, hide your worry. The 
whole thing hangs on that. If Jerome can stay 
steady — Oh, by the way. What pitcher did 
Marty favor?” 

“King.” 

“And how is King acting in this row?” 

“King’s a brick,” said Danny. 

“Ah!” Craig smiled. “Well, if Jerome can 
keep steady, the confidence of this nine is going 
to grow with every inning. By the middle of the 
game they ought to be unbeatable. But if JeromC 
goes wild ” 

“Yes?” Danny said eagerly. 


273 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Your nine is going to fall like a pack of cards.” 

“He won’t go wild,” said Danny sturdily. 

Craig stepped out of the room, followed by 
Danny, and went down the stairs. Four or five 
fellows saw him as he passed along the hallway. 

“Craig!” yelled one. “Craig is back.” 

Boys came piling from their rooms. Talmage 
saw him and did a crazy jig on the stairs. Baggs, 
in his joy, threw one leg over the banisters and 
slid down a flight. And so it went until the coach 
reached the Yard. 

There the students surrounded him. Was he 
going to take charge of the nine? Craig smiled. 

“I’ll be on the bench to-morrow,” he said. 

And then they cheered uproariously. The nine 
began to stick out its chest. The fellows quite 
forgot that there had ever been a row with Marty 
Black. 

After a while, when the gathering was rejoicing 
with noise and racket, the coach plucked at Dan- 
ny’s arm. 

“I’m going up to see Jerome,” he said. 

He pushed his way good naturedly through the 


274 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


crowd. Boys wanted to follow him, but he waved 
them back. He went upstairs, knocked on a door, 
turned the knob softly and stepped in. 

Jerome, lost in his own thoughts, had not heard 
the knock. He had not even bothered to inves- 
tigate the noise from the Yard. A shadow fell 
across the wall. 

“What was the noise about, Dut?” he asked 
listlessly. Receiving no answer he looked around. 
“Craig!” he whispered after he had stared a while 
in silence. 

“Craig it is,” said the man. 

“Will — will you be with us to-morrow?” 

“Yes.” 

Jerome’s face lit up. In a moment he seemed 
to be a different boy. And he said, too, just what 
Danny had said. 

“Oh, Craig, I’m glad you’re back.” 

“And I’m glad I came back,” was the answer. 
“I want to talk to you, Jerry. Suppose we take 
a walk.” 

The pitcher reached eagerly for his cap. 

The coach led the way down a rear staircase. 


275 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


They came out in the back of the dormitory build- 
ing. They skirted the Yard. Not one of the ex- 
cited students saw them. Soon they were in a 
quiet village street. 

“Jerry,” said Craig, “there often comes a time 
to man or boy when he is right up against it. He 
must do something for himself and his friends. I 
know all about your troubles this season. But 
your troubles are now of secondary importance. 
Danny has been your friend all along. He has 
run into trouble because of you. Now, this game 
doesn’t make so much difference to you. You will 
pitch other games. But to-morrow’s game makes 
or mars Danny Phipps. Do you get me?” 

“I don’t,” said the pitcher. “I can tell you that 
this game makes a lot of difference to me.” 

“You don’t understand. You are really only 
beginning as a pitcher. Isn’t that so?” 

“Well, I’ve been pitching only a few years.” 

“Of course. You have lots of pitching ahead 
of you. A good day or a bad day isn’t really 
going to have any bearing on what you will be 
able to do a year from now. But Danny has got 

276 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


to make good this year as captain. Do you realize 
that?” 

“Well,” said Jerome, “I know he wants to make 
good but ” 

“But you don’t see how it runs after that? 
If Danny fails now, he will never get another cap- 
taincy — either in school or in college. Captains 
who quarrel with coaches get a black eye unless 
they prove their cases and make good. Now, 
Danny is in the position of having quarreled with 
Marty Black. There is only one person who can 
pull him through and that person is you.” 

Jerome kept step with the coach, but he did not 
speak. 

“You have worked with Danny,” Craig went 
on. “He has coached you. He tells me that you 
can get them over, that you have control. Now, 
Jerry, let me tell you this; Monroe will not hit 
you. It is only a question of whether you will 
pass the batters.” 

“Marty says — ” began the pitcher. He hesi- 
tated. “Perhaps I ought not to say what Marty 
says.” 


277 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“Tell me.” 

“Well, Marty says that when I take so much 
pains to put them over they come up too good, 
and that any nine is likely to hit them.” 

“Did Monroe hit you the last time?” 

“Not enough to win.” 

“Then I guess you can forget what Marty said. 
When you must put that ball over, put it over. 
This nine will do some work for you, I hope.” 

“Of course they will,” cried Jerome. 

“There is only one important thing. If you get 
in the hole and have to put it over, keep it low, 
if anything. I mean don’t give a ball squarely 
between the waist and the shoulder. Get it down 
between the waist and the knee. Then, if the 
batter connects, the hit will be a short one.” 

“Why, that is what Danny’s been telling me,” 
said Jerome. 

“Danny’s stood by you,” said Craig. 

The boy nodded soberly. “I’ll do anything to 
make good for Danny,” he said. 

But, somehow, Craig did not detect the right 
ring in that speech. The boy didn’t have the 


278 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


spirit the coach wanted to see. He wanted Jerome 
to sleep soundly with a feeling of confidence that 
would stay with him through the night and say a 
cheery “Hello !” to him when he opened his eyes 
in the morning. 

They turned back toward the Yard. Then: 

“Did you ever hear of Roberts,” Craig asked, 
“Josiah Roberts?” 

“The new pitcher Midvale has?” Jerome asked. 

The coach nodded. “I was over there day be- 
fore yesterday. I saw him work.” 

“He must be good,” Jerome said eagerly. “He 
won his last eight games, and he’s pulled Mid- 
vale from sixth to third place in the State 
League.” 

“He’s built something like you,” Craig said 
idly. 

“Is he?” 

“Yes. He uses that same overhand cross-fire 
that you use, too. Of course, he’s bigger and 
older than you, but if it wasn’t for that I’d have 
thought I was watching you in action.” 

Jerome’s face flushed with pleasure. To be 

279 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


compared with the great Josh Roberts was fame 
indeed. 

“They can’t hit him,” said Craig. “And for 
the same reason Monroe won’t hit you.” 

“What same reason?” 

“The reason that you both pitch the same sort 
of ball the same way. You’re a small edition of 
Josh Roberts, Jerry.” 

After that, as they finished their walk toward 
the Yard, Jerome’s voice became more confident. 
He told Craig a cheery “Good night.” He came 
back after he had gone a few steps and whispered, 
“You’ve made me feel bully, Craig.” 

“Nonsense !” laughed the coach. “You were 
bully all the time and you didn’t know it.” 

Yet the man turned away with a smile. He was 
quite sure that Jerome’s sleep would be sound. 
And next morning Dutton reported that the 
pitcher had not stirred all through the night — at 
least not during those hours of the night when 
the catcher had been awake. 

The day of the big game had at last arrived. 
Quiet little Manor Hall rocked with noise. Craig 
280 


RESTORING CONFIDENCE 


came to the dormitory building early in the morn- 
ing. He had spent the night at the village inn, 
for Marty Black was still in possession of his old 
rooms. 

The uproar had scarcely any effect on the base- 
ball squad. The boys ate a quiet, unhurried break- 
fast. Jerome, looking very serious but very de- 
termined, too, spent much of the morning in 
his room. At 12:30 o’clock the squad assem- 
bled again and ate sparingly. Half an hour 
later, the students left the dormitory building, 
marched across the Yard, across the road to 
the athletic field, and then up to the locker 
room. 

They took their time about dressing. Uniforms 
were examined to see that all was well with them. 
The spikes in the shoes were tested. At last the 
squad was ready to go forth to where the stands 
waited to greet them. 

Jerome was apparently in good shape. But 
then, as both Craig and Danny knew, appearances 
are sometimes deceptive. The coach played a 
canny trick. While Danny, not knowing what 


281 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


was happening scarcely dared to breath, Craig 
took Jerome over to a window. 

“Is that a bruise on the wrist of your right 
arm?” he asked. 

Jerome held forth the hand. The fingers were 
steady as a rock. 

“No bruise there,” he said. 

“It must have been a shadow I saw,” said Craig. 

Jerome went back to the squad, and with the 
others soon passed out to the field. Danny came 
last. Craig fell into step with him. 

“Smile, Danny,” said the coach. “He’ll pull 
through for you.” 


CHAPTER XIV 

FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 

A ROAR went up from the stands as the 
players ran out. Manor Hall’s cheer 
swept the field. 

Watch them fight! Watch them fight! 

Watch them fight! 

Green and White! Green and White! 

Green and White! 

Manor, Manor, Manor, Manor, Manor! 

Hall! Hall! Hall! 

“Watch them fight,” thought Danny. And un- 
der his breath: “Ah! Watch them fight.” 

For all that Craig said that Jerome would do, 
Danny wisely watched all three of his pitchers. 
Steele apparently had nothing but a straight ball 
and not much speed. King had speed to spare, 
283 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


but not much of anything else. Danny was quickly 
aware that Jerome was his only hope. If Jerry 
failed, he did not have a rescue pitcher worth his 
salt. 

So he turned his attention to his youngest 
pitcher. As he watched Jerome sending them in, 
he could see that the boy was full of life and 
determination. His outcurve was working well, 
and he had his cross-fire under control. Orth, who 
was receiving until Dutton should be ready, turned 
to Danny. 

“See that break? They won’t hit that to-day.” 

Danny’s spirits took a sudden rise. The only 
question was, could Jerry keep them over the plate. 
The captain walked over to Dutton. 

“Ralph,” he said, “it is up to you. If you 
can make Jerry keep them over this game is won.” 

“He’ll be all right, Danny. He told me that 
when Craig talked about a ball above the knees, he 
could feel his courage increasing, because that was 
the way you had coached him. This nine is with 
you to a man. And then, with Craig on the 
bench ” 


284 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


“I know,” said Danny. 

The old coach sat there with the same old 
score-book on his knees. It looked as though he 
had never been away so much at home was he. 
And the players felt a strange new peace. 

Monroe went first to bat. As Danny and the 
fellows started for the field Farrell whispered that 
Marty had a seat right behind the bench. 

There was a big cheer for Jerome as he went to 
the mound — a long, rousing cheer of confidence. 
Danny pounded a fist unto his glove. 

‘‘Oh, if he only shows control right from the 
start!” he muttered to himself, “what a help it 
will be 1” 

Jerome showed control. Pitching slowly and 
carefully, he mowed the Monroe batters down. 
For three innings they came methodically to the 
plate and as methodically marched back to the 
bench. 

Meanwhile, after having failed to score in both 
the first and the second inning, Manor got a tally 
in the third. Farrell, who had played a strong, 
earnest game all season, led off with a two-bagger. 

285 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


On Dutton’s slow splash to the box, he raced to 
third. Jerome struck out. 

Perhaps it was his dash to third that aroused 
Farrell to a spirit to try his legs again. Cross went 
after Maxim’s first pitch, a bad ball. Plainly the 
Monroe pitcher was going to have an easy time 
with Manor Hall’s first-baseman. So Farrell, 
dancing about on third, signalled that he would 
steal home. 

He did not go in as the pitcher wound up. Oh, 
no! Foxy Farrell had a game that was worth 
two of that. As Maxim threw his second pitch — 
a called ball — Farrel danced in. As the Monroe 
catcher secured the ball, he danced back toward 
the bag. The Monroe catcher, secure in his be- 
lief that the runner would go all the way back to 
the base, tossed the ball to Maxim. And as the 
ball left his hand, Farrell whirled about and 
dashed for the plate. 

It was an unexpected play. It was baseball 
strategy. The stands shrieked aloud. Manor’s 
rooters yelled for Farrell to come on, and Mon- 
roe’s followers begged Maxim to throw the ball. 


286 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


Maxim, upset by so daring a play, threw high to 
the catcher, and Farrell was across the plate be- 
fore that boy could bring down his arms. 

“There’s your lead, Jerry,” cried Danny. 

Jerome grinned. That was the way to back 
up a fellow, wasn’t it? The fourth inning began. 

The boy, confident, began to play the batters. 
He put two strikes on the first Monroe lad to 
come to the plate. Then came a ball. Dutton, 
full of confidence, signalled for a high one, hoping 
to catch the batter — but the ball was too high. 
Then he called for a straight one on the inside. 

The pitcher was a beauty for the purpose, but 
it was a shade too far in, and when the batsman 
let it go, the umpire said, “Ball three!” 

“He’s going up, up, up,” howled Monroe. 

The next pitch was wide. The boy at the plate 
ran down to first. “Here’s where we start,” he 
said to Cross. 

The first-baseman was worried. But Danny 
called cheerily: 

“All right, Jerry. We’ll get him for you.” 

The next boy laid down a bunt. Dutton elected 
287 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


to throw to second, but the ball got there too late. 

“Nobody out!” howled the coaches. 

“Here’s where we start,” shrieked the stands. 

A big, lumbering boy was at the plate. Jerome 
used his cross-fire. The boy swung vainly. 

“Good boy!” cried Dutton. 

The next pitch was fouled over the grandstand. 

“Two strikes!” called Dutton. “Now he’s in 
the hole, Jerry.” 

Jerome would not fool with his batter. Oh, no. 
Things were getting serious. He pitched an- 
other cross-fire. It was one of his best, starting 
well in and swinging out sharply. 

The batter lunged wildly. Dutton started to 
cry “Ha, ha! He’s gone!” But the tip of the 
bat met the ball. The ball shot into the air with 
a vicious curve. It went six feet above Cross’s 
head, struck just within the foul line, and twisted 
and rolled off at right angles. Farrell did his 
best, but the ball was rolling away from him, and 
he recovered it close to the little low fence that 
ran parallel with the bleachers. 

The Monroe stands were cheering. The run- 


288 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


ner on second had hesitated a little, fearing that 
Cross might capture the hit. As he saw it shoot 
over the first-baseman’s head he dug his spikes 
into the dirt. The coach at third waved him 
home. 

But now Farrell had the ball. He tried to 
throw to the plate, but his attempt was too greatly 
hurried. The leather struck the diamond and 
bounded high over Dutton’s head. 

“Wow!” yelled Monroe. “Come on, every- 
body.” 

The boy who had been on first also ran for 
home. Talmage had backed up Dutton, and now 
he had the ball. But though his throw was true, 
it came too late. And then, too, Dutton in try- 
ing to tag the runner knocked the leather out of 
his own hands. 

“Third!” Danny yelled. 

Lee was waiting for the ball. He dug it at the 
boy whose hit had caused all this trouble. But the 
boy was already on the bag. 

Nobody out, two runs in, and a man on third! 

Manor Hall was thoroughly shaken up. Lee 

289 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


tossed the ball to Danny. The captain walked in 
to Jerome. 

“Tough luck,” he said. “He almost missed 
that ball, and should have struck out. Keep up 
the way you’re going. You’ll be all right.” 

“I’ll stick,” said Jerome grimly. 

The Green and White stands were in gloom. 
Monroe supporters were jumping up and down in 
their seats, and waving their flags, and having a 
high old time generally. 

“We want more runs !” they chanted. 

But Jerome wasn’t in the mood to surrender 
another inch. He had a feeling that every boy 
there in the field behind him was wondering 
whether he’d pull through. He shut his teeth and 
put all he had on the ball. The next boy struck 
out, and the Green and White stands began to take 
renewed interest in the game. 

The next batter fouled to Dutton. Things be- 
gan to look decidedly better. 

But a runner was still on third. Jerome came 
back with his cross-fire. The batter swung. The 
ball dribbled along the base line to Cross, and 


290 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


Cross jumped on the bag with both feet so that 
there would be no mistake that he had touched the 
canvas. 

Manor’s cheer shrilled across the field. The 
stands gave Jerome a small-sized ovation. He 
had crawled out of a very bad hole. As he sat 
down on the bench Craig tapped him with the 
score-book. 

“Great work, son.” 

Jerome smiled. He hadn’t felt like smiling out 
there a few moments ago, but now the danger 
was past. The score was 2 to i in Monroe’s 
favor. 

Three more innings passed. Jerome continued 
to pitch with the smoothness of a machine. Not 
a hit was made off him. 

But Maxim’s pitching was almost as good. 
Twice Manor Hall got runners as far as third. 
On these occasions, however, Monroe was alive 
to the dangers of a steal, and the hits that would 
score the runs did not come. 

Then came the last of the seventh. With one 
down, the dependable Farrell hit between center 

291 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


and left. He turned first, turned second, and ran 
on to third. Danny flashed his hand to the 
coach. He had little confidence that Dutton or 
Jerome would hit. He signalled to send Farrell 
home. 

So Farrell raced for the plate. He would have 
made it had not the fielder’s throw been a beauty. 
The ball struck well out, bounded twice, and came 
low to the catcher. Farrell slid into the ball. 

“Out!” said the umpire. 

A chance for a run was gone. Danny thought 
sadly that Marty and some of the others would 
say he had blundered, but he thought he had done 
the right thing under all the conditions. 

Dutton drew a base on balls. 

Danny dropped a hand on Jerome’s shoulder. 
“Here’s your chance to tie your own game,” he 
said. “Let the first one go. I’ll send Dutton 
down on the first pitch.” 

Dutton was not fast, but things were now des- 
perate for the Green and White. Luckily the 
catcher juggled the ball when it came to him, 
with the result that Dutton reached the midway 

292 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


base in safety. The stands began to clamor for a 
hit. 

Jerome was weak with the stick. However, 
he managed to scratch a fluky single past third 
base. Dutton sprinted in with the tying run. On 
the throw to the plate Jerome went down to sec- 
ond. 

The Green and White stands yelled madly. 
Danny, himself, was on fire with excitement. 
Craig smiled quietly. 

The head of the batting list was up. Cross 
walked out swinging a heavy club. 

“Take the first good one,” Danny ordered. He 
felt that Maxim was weakening. In this he was 
right. Cross laced the first pitch over second, and 
Jerome trotted in and did not even have to slide. 
Cross was held at first. 

Again Danny took a chance. He sent Cross 
down to steal. But this time the catcher did not 
juggle. Cross was thrown out. The beginning 
of the eighth dawned, with the score 3 to 2 in 
Manor’s favor. Danny felt that he wanted to get 
out and dance. He felt much more cheerful than 


293 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


during the tedious innings when the score had been 
2 to i against him. 

“Two more innings,” he called to Jerome. 
“You’ve got them.” 

“They won’t hit me,” said the pitcher. 

They didn’t. But now Maxim had recovered 
and Manor was also blanked. The ninth inning 
started. 

Here was Monroe’s last chance. The stands 
were cheering and singing and calling excited com- 
mands. Staid old gentlemen tugged at their col- 
lars and absent-mindedly crushed in their hats. 

The first batter lifted what was apparently an 
easy fly just over shortstop’s head. Lee ran back 
to get it, and Chapman, the left-fielder, came in 
with the same purpose in mind. 

“Mine, mine,” Chapman shouted. 

Lee did not hear him. Danny called a warning, 
but was too late. The boys came together, and 
the ball fell safe between them. Neither was seri- 
ously hurt, but the accident was a shock to the 
nine. Here was a runner on the paths who had 
no business there. Was Monroe’s luck returning? 


294 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


The next boy grounded to Lee. 

“Double play,” called Danny. 

Lee threw to the captain. But Danny, in his 
haste to hurry the leather to Cross, dropped the 
ball and both men were safe. The Monroe stands 
sang deliriously. 

“My fault,” cried Danny. “We’ll get the next 
one, Jerry.” 

But, for the first time that day, Jerome was 
upset. Danny had been such a source of strength 
to him, that it robbed him of some of the courage 
to see the captain fail in the pinch. Before he 
knew it he had three balls and no strikes on the 
third batter. He pulled himself together and tried 
not to hear Monroe’s exultant cries. But after 
getting over one strike, he slipped in a wide pitch. 
The bases were full, and nobody was out. 

“Take him out, take him out,” Monroe cried 
joyously, and, in truth, some of Manor’s fellows 
cried the same thing. Marty Black called over to 
King, “There he goes.” But King turned his back. 
King was white through and through. 

The infield gathered around Jerome. They 


295 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


knew he was shaken. They wanted to give him 
time to steady himself. He kept twisting one foot 
in the pitcher’s plate. Finally he swallowed hard. 

“I’m all right now,” he said. 

“We’re with you,” called Danny. The fielders 
scurried back to their places. 

Just above the knees Jerome began to stick the 
ball. Strike one! Strike two! The Manor 
stands took heart. They started their cheer : 

Watch them fight! Watch them fight! 

Watch them fight! 

Green and White! Green and White! 

. Green and 

“Strike three!” called the umpire. 

The cheer was lost in a shout of joy. Jerome, 
on the mound, pulled down his cap firmly. 

The next boy fouled to Cross. None of the 
runners dared try to advance. 

“Only one more,” cried Danny. “Just one 
more, Jerry.” 

This time the batter hit directly to the pitcher. 
Jerome took the ball on the first bound. All he 
296 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


had to do was to throw to first base and the game 
was over and the Green and White had won. 
Men in the stands started to leave their seats. 

And suddenly a roar made them turn around. 
Cross, in some strange way, had dropped the ball. 
The runner was safe. The tying run was in. 
There were still three on the bases. 

Here was the chance for Monroe to pound the 
ball all over the field. The Green and White was 
groggy from this latest freak of fortune. Mon- 
roe’s players shouted from the bench. Her run- 
ners became intoxicated with the excitement of 
their golden chances. The players on both sides 
seemed to have gone suddenly mad. 

Not Cross, however. He had not lost his head 
when he made his error. He tucked the ball under 
his arm. Only the umpire noticed what he did. 
And a moment later when the boy whose weak 
splash had helped tie up the game stepped off the 
bag, Cross thumped him with the leather. 

“Out!” said the umpire wearily. Why, he won- 
dered, did players continue to fall victims to the 
hidden ball trick? 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


Cross rolled the sphere toward the mound. He 
ran to Jerome and dropped an arm across his 
shoulder. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have 
to. Jerry understood. 

There was a battle-scarred grimness on the 
bench as the last half of the inning started. Craig 
had not said a word of complaint to Cross. The 
first-baseman thought bitterly that it was generally 
the fellow who was most anxious to win who lost. 

Chapman was first up. Danny, with his eyes on 
Maxim, considered. Had Maxim’s nerves jumped 
with his team-mate’s during that rally? If so, had 
Maxim’s nerves yet steadied? 

“Wait him out,” said the captain; “wait him 
out, Chap. Take two strikes before you swing.” 

Danny’s guess was good. Maxim pitched two 
bad balls. Then, though he managed to work in 
a strike, he lost control and missed the plate with 
two more attempts. Chapman trotted down to 
first. 

Danny wanted just one run. He came to bat 
and longed to whale at the ball and try to drive 
it out of the lots, but that was not good general- 
298 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


ship. He bunted, and though he was thrown out, 
Chapman was on second. A hit would win the 
game. 

Baggs came to bat. He was the heaviest hitter 
of the nine, and a cheer sounded for him. Here, 
thought the stands, was the place to settle this old 
ball game. But Baggs was for once too anxious. 
He started after bad balls, and Danny, whose 
hopes were high, sighed. He was not surprised 
when Baggs came back to the bench a strikeout 
victim. Baggs looked as though he wanted to cry. 

It was Talmage’s turn. Danny pleaded with 
him for a hit. Talmage dumped the ball over the 
third-baseman’s head. The stands roared, and 
then suddenly became silent. For the hit was too 
short for Chapman to try to score. This game 
was still undecided. 

It was now Lee’s turn. He had been shaken 
by that tumble. Perhaps Maxim would think that 
he was still shaken. Perhaps Maxim would try 
to work a fast strike right at the start. Danny 
called back the shortstop. 

‘‘How are you feeling, shaky?” 


299 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“My head’s clear.” 

“Then watch for that first pitch. I think it will 
be right over. Kill it, Lee; kill it.” 

Lee gripped his bat and went out. 

And that first ball was just what the captain ex-» 
pected. Just above the waist it came, hard and 
fast and true. Lee put his shoulders into the 
swing. 

The stands saw the short-stop jump. He missed 
the ball. And then, while the happy Lee scooted 
to first, and while Chapman thundered in with a 
run, the stands spilled themselves out on the field. 
It was victory for the Green and White. 

Soberly amid the riot and rejoicing, the nine 
returned to the locker room. At one stage of the 
season they had been beaten. Yet to-day they had 
won their championship. They started to tell 
Danny that the credit was his, and they were still 
telling him when Marty Black walked into the 
locker room. 

“Congratulations, Cap,” he said. He nodded 
across the room. “Hello, Craig. Good game.” 

“Great game,” said the coach. 


300 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


“I thought the boys would be chased all over 
the lot/’ Marty confessed. “Great boy, this Cap 
here. I can’t make head or tail of him. He up- 
sets every rule and gets away with it. He’s too 
much for me.” 

Craig smiled wisely. 

“I wish I knew how he did it,” sighed Marty. 
“If I could do things that way, I’d be managing a 
big league team. He picks pitchers that nobody 
else would pick and they win for him. Great boy. 
Well, we’ll shake hands, Cap, won’t we?” 

“Of course we will,” said Danny. 

Marty collected a few belongings and for the 
last time left the locker room. He was still 
shaking his head as he went through the door as 
though Manor’s victory became stranger to him 
the more he thought of it. 

Back there in the room Farrell banged on the 
floor with the cleats of his shoes. He wanted a 
cheer for Danny. There wasn’t noise enough to 
suit him. He announced that he wanted a cheer 
for a Manor Hall fellow who was big enough to 
make Marty Black toe the mark. 


301 


CAPTAIN DANNY 


“I don’t want a cheer for that,” Danny said 
gravely. “When a boy starts out to override a 
man he generally gets into trouble. It just hap- 
pened that I blundered into the right things. I 
was lucky. And I think right now that we’d have 
lost that game if it hadn’t been for Craig. He 
came back here and straightened everything out 
for us.” 

“Craig, Craig, Craig!” yelled the squad. 

“You can thank Marty Black that I was here,” 
said the coach. 

A sudden silence fell. Farrell glanced up from 
where he knelt with his cleats. 

“Why?” he asked. Farrell was a very practi- 
cal chap. 

“I told Danny I couldn’t withstand the itch to 
to see the last game,” Craig said. “That is not 
strictly true. Marty wrote to me. He s^id that • 
he wasn’t pulling right with the squad, and that 
either you didn’t understand him or he didn’t un- 
derstand you. He asked me to come back.” 

“Marty did that?” Farrell asked incredulously. 

“Marty did that,” Craig repeated. 


302 


FOR THE GREEN AND WHITE 


There was a rush for the windows. Marty was 
crossing the road toward the Yard. A hurricane 
of cheers reached his ears. He turned about, stood 
there for a moment smiling, and then waved his 
hand toward the boys in the windows. 

“Some queer eels,” he said. “Fight with me 
last night and cheer me this afternoon. ,, 

He was more puzzled a month later when a 
small silver cup came to him. The cup stood on 
a dainty mahogany stand, and on its surface was 
engraved : 


TO 

THE MAN WHO BEAT MONROE 

FROM 

CAP 


Danny showed the cup to Craig before he sent 
it away. Craig held it a little while in silence, 
and finally put it back in its case. 

“You’re going up to Yale, aren’t you?” he asked. 

“I am,” said Danny. 

Craig smiled softly. “Yale,” he said, “is get- 
ting a mighty good man.” (i) 


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